


And You Will Have Me Live

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, Post War, Post-War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Eternity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-18
Updated: 2010-09-29
Packaged: 2018-10-27 08:22:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 88,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10805370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Pansy Parkinson's life had been set in stone since she was a little girl with no hope of it ever changing. However a chance meeting on Christmas Day with Ron Weasley changes everything for better and for worse.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

Chapter 1 – Christmas Day

 

Christmas Day couldn't end soon enough as far as Pansy Parkinson was concerned. She stood at the surprisingly crowded Leaky Cauldron ordering a drink, as she had every Christmas since she’d turned seventeen. It still amazed her at how many witches and wizards had the same overriding desire to get the hell away from their families at this time of year. Maybe it was a sign she was normal after all. Or, at the very least, could be perceived as being normal.

 

Pansy had just bailed on her parents' annual Christmas party twenty minutes earlier. Though no one at the Leaky Cauldron would have guessed that; given her slim, black jeans; black leather, knee-length boots; and large black belt that coordinated with the halter top she had worn to the ball.  However, she figured she still had two hours before she could go home. Any sooner and she ran the risk of her mother catching her and that was one battle she was in no mood to fight. Especially with her parents' annual New Year's Eve Ball just around the corner, one misstep with escaping the Christmas party guaranteed her a chaperone for the entire New Year's Ball. 

 

She paid her tab and grabbed her drink; with a quick 'thank you' to Hannah who nodded her head discretely. Leaning her back against the bar, she looked for a quite place to drink and wallow in privacy. Unfortunately, the Christmas crowd was occupying many of the tables she preferred when she felt this cranky. Finally, she spotted one in the back corner and made her way to it. Keeping her head down just enough to let her shoulder length, black hair cover her face, she kept her walk quick and confident hoping to deter any one from getting a second look and recognizing her.

 

Unfortunately, on closer inspection, she realized that it was occupied with the most annoying Gryffindor ever – Ron Weasley. Silently, she cursed to herself. She briefly thought about spinning around and finding another table, but one look at him told her that he was in the same dark mood as she was. 

 

_What the hell?_ she thought.

 

He had hated her since she was eleven. What happened that night at the Battle of Hogwarts didn't lower his opinion of her in the least; she was probably as low as a person could go.. Taking a calculated risk, she scooted into the vacant side of the booth pushing into the darkened corner to hide from on-lookers. 

 

“Beat it, Parkinson,” he growled. 

 

“Waiting on someone other than your next drink, Weasel?” she replied, not looking in his direction as she kept her eyes on the room. She turned her body to rest her back against the wall and placed her feet on the bench, trying to further hide in the darkness of the booth while still keeping an eye on whoever approached the table. 

 

Never seeing the one set of eyes that were staring at her as she tried to dig herself into the darken corner. 

 

“No.”

 

“Then I'm staying.” 

 

She expected a fight from the hot-headed Weasel. Actually, she was hoping for a fight. She could use an argument with someone who had some anger to diffuse but wanted to make a scene as little as she did at that moment. As well as someone who had very little ammunition against her and wasn't a family member -- or Draco.

 

“Fine.” 

 

_Fuck-a-doodle-do,_ she silently responded, deflating slightly from the irritating fact that he refused to engage in battle with her. 

 

All those years she had to endure him fighting with Granger and the one night she wanted a fight, the best source in giving her what she craved, refused her. 

 

“Fine,” she answered before allowing her body to go numb and her mind to go blank. It was the only way she got through the holiday season year in and year out. 

 

_Who am I kidding?_ she thought. _It's how I get through most days anymore_. 

 

She tried desperately not to think about a past she couldn't change and a future that wouldn't. In these moments, she tried not to think of the what-ifs or the could-have-beens. She just tried to exist. To live her so called life. To focus on breathing. To determine her next witty comeback when her father and Draco bugged her about becoming a specter in her own life.

 

_Like I really have a choice_ , she thought bitterly. _How could they think that my life would amount to anything else_?

 

Shaking that upsetting thought from her mind, she worked on focusing on the numbness so she could attempt to be genuinely happy the next time she spent time with her sisters – listening to them prattle on about their latest crush, dates to Hogsmeade, discussing their weddings, and future children – everything that had either been taken away from her or was never hers to start with. 

“Parkinson.” A voice broke her from her self-induced misery.

 

“What?” Her voice cracked as she turned to look at the source of the voice, having forgotten in her blissful mode of self-pity that she wasn't alone.

 

“Your refill,” Ron replied, pushing a full glass her way. Adding quickly, “Hannah tried to ask you what you wanted.”

 

“Thanks,” she replied, allowing a soft smile. Figuring the conversation was over, she turned her face back to stare at the crowd milling about and tried to use the music that was blaring in the background to bring her back to that empty place she clung to. She willed herself to avoid any lingering thoughts that had started to crop up about the fight her and her father had been carrying on for the last three days.

 

“Bad day?” Ron asked 

 

She took a sip from her glass, her eyes still on the crowd. “Same as every Christmas. You?”

 

“Could've been a hell of a lot better.” 

 

There was something odd in his voice and it caused her to tilt her head in surprise before turning her head to look at him. In all the years she had been tortured by his existence, the way he clung to Potter’s star and Granger’s brain like a mindless puppy, she couldn't remember him ever looking so dejected. 

 

 

And then her eyes focused on his large hands as she watched him play with his glass:first, swilling the liquor inside the glass, before taking a drink and placing it back on the table, running his fingers over the rim. Pansy found it oddly cathartic to watch him behave in the same manner Draco had nagged her about many a time because he found it annoying.

 

“You have a bad Christmas every year?” he asked, staring at the glass in front of him.

 

“Yes,” she said as she smiled a sad smile before spinning her body around to sit properly on the bench. If only he knew that her smile was only from the thought of the irony of her situation – he probably would laugh. Christmas and the holidays, in general, were supposed to be a good time of year. Instead, she had a countdown marked in her calendar to help her prepare herself for the worst time of the year. “My parents host this aggravating Christmas Ball every year... I swear my mother pays men to follow me around with mistletoe. Making it one of my two least favorite days of the year.”

 

“Should I even ask what’s the other day?”  
  


“New Year's Eve; when they host this slightly less aggravating New Year's Ball. At least there I only have to kiss one frog.” 

 

She watched him in awe as the smile that had started to form across his face grew even larger when he laughed. Pansy found herself marveling at him as he tossed his head causing his shaggy, long hair to flick. Jealousy grew inside her as she wished she could laugh like that, but reality came crashing down on her when she realized that she would have to enjoy life to do so. 

 

 “So what are your feelings on Valentine's Day?” he asked.

 

“Don't ask. I'm just dreading the day my mother decides to start hosting a Valentine's Day Ball,” she replied, trying to switch the course of the conversation away from her. Having grown uncomfortable about being the focus of their conversation, she asked, “Enough about me, though. Why are you here on Christmas?”

 

“Same as you.”

 

“You're hiding from my mother too?” she sassed, hoping he would laugh again.

 

To which she was rewarded.

 

 “No, my mother,” he explained before going quiet; as if the realization of why he was here at a bar on Christmas with the one person he probably hated as much as Draco as company suddenly dawned on him.

 

Pansy let him have his silence. She knew from experience that talking about your problems and your situation was vastly overrated. 

 

After several minutes, she took a sip of her drink, offering the only olive branch she could think of, she gently told him, “I bet my mother is worse.”

 

“I'll take that bet,” Ron replied, finishing his drink and signaling for another. “What do I win?”

 

“I'll give you a bottle of the firewhisky my father gave me for Christmas. And what do I win?”

 

“Two tickets to the Cannons game against the Tornadoes.” 

 

“Deal,” she said, grinning at the thought of two tickets to the upcoming Cannons game when she had the owner's box at her disposal. “Besides the aforementioned frogs that chase me around the ball with mistletoe, my mother spends the Christmas Ball making me dance with every eligible wizard that she invites. So I try to sneak out as soon as possible because there is no way she would actually treat me as an adult and allow me to leave with her knowledge. Well, maybe if I was married, but that is getting off topic.”

 

“Back to the ball, though. I have to stay at least two hours or dance with ten frogs, who step on my feet and say nothing of any importance, before I leave. However, I have to be careful when I leave. Besides having to slip out undetected by her, I have to avoid my father, two sisters who find enjoyment in my pain, and all the house-elves. Oh, and then there's her friends.  I have to find a way out from a house in the middle of fucking nowhere, because she insists the Christmas Ball be at the country home, undetected by all of their friends who are dying to marry me off to one of their sons.” 

 

“If after I successfully escape and my mother realizes that I'm not there, she immediately Apparates to my house. If I'm there, she lets into me for leaving and is not above dragging me back to the party, where I will have a house-elf glued to my side for the rest of the evening. However, if I'm not at my house, she thinks I've left with one of the frogs and will not pursue her search any longer. Long story short, I'm here, killing time until I can go safely home, tuck into bed, and forget this day happened yet again.”

 

Ron whistled. “That's pretty good. But points should be deducted since you know how to escape. Anyway, mine might be a little better.”

 

“Noted. I doubt it,” she smiled, finishing her drink. “Let's hear it, Weasley.”

 

“My mother utilized every opportunity she had today to pester me about proposing to Hermione. She was so busy doing so that she never realized that Hermione only came over for twenty minutes before running back home to her parents, because they need her.” 

 

“My mother even had my three older brothers -- who should know better -- pester me too: one who lives in Romania and is more obsessed with dragons than girls;  another one who is happily married, so he has turned into a little girl and thinks everyone should be as happy as he is; and then there is the biggest prat of him them all who thinks he knows better than I do.” 

 

“Mind you, I have no way to escape her onslaught. I can't go to the store because it's closed and George would only keep dragging me back if I went to his flat because torturing me has been his favorite sport since we were little.”

 

“Oh, and my best friend? My mother only has to look at him in that certain way and he feels instantly guilty and will do her bidding. So if I go home, she will guilt him into dragging me back. Shockingly enough, he is such an awful liar that any relief Ginny can get me goes underutilized because he will cave when my mother turns to look at him. I was only able to get away when my supposed best friend and my little sister decided to leave forty minutes ago.”

 

“So I have just spent the entire day being bugged about marrying a girl who can't seem to stand to be around me for longer than thirty minutes every few weeks.”

 

“No offense, I still don't see how that is worse,” Pansy replied, grateful, that two drinks appeared and not one. “Points should be docked because at least you had an ally. My only possible ally thinks my situation is so hilarious that he would rather tattle on me and watch me suffer my mother's wrath then help me. And in case you are wondering, he did that at last year's Christmas Ball.”

 

“Noted. But my mother,” Ron continued, “is so set on me and Hermione getting married that she can't see that our relationship has been struggling for going on two years now. Not that anyone else has paid any attention to that either. If I have to hear, 'But you belong together,' one more time from someone in my family I might actually punch something or someone.”

 

One look at him, told Pansy that his situation was definitely worse than hers. Deep down, she knew her mother was only putting forth the matchmaking effort for appearances, where as Ron's mother was genuinely interfering and making him miserable, albeit with the best intentions. Trying her most pensive look she could muster, she wondered out loud, “Two years, you say.”

 

“Two years.”

 

Lifting her glass to Ron, she grinned, “I concede. I'd rather deal with a matchmaking mother then one who has already picked out your children's names. You win.”

 

“Thank you,” he replied with a large smile, clinking his glass with hers.

 

Shaking her head slightly and a grin still on her face, she continued, “I'll have the bottle sent over tomorrow. Where do you want me to send it?”

 

“The store. In the evening, if you don't mind. Any earlier and George will drink it,” Ron replied. “Send it to my house and my sister will drink it.”

 

“You're kidding me, right?”

 

“What? Don't your siblings take your stuff for the sake of taking it?”

 

“My sisters are almost 8 years younger than me. I've actually never lived with them outside of an occasional holiday.”

 

Ron shook his head. “Not everyone is so lucky.”

 

“I know,” Pansy responded before finishing her drink. She turned to see if she could flag down two more glasses and, to her disappointment, she saw a flash of bright red hair come into the Leaky Cauldron. Turning back to face Ron, she broke the bad news to him with a forced smile, knowing she needed to exit as quickly and quietly as possible. “Well, whether you like it or not, I think your family is about to descend upon you. And I doubt you want to add any more to your misery.” 

 

Standing up, she started to pull out her share but Ron grabbed her forearm to stop her.

 

“My treat,” he said with a smile. “Get out of here before they see you.”

 

“Thanks,” Pansy said before turning and sliding into the crowd. Like earlier, she hung her head forward enough that her shoulder length hair covered her face. Keeping her walk quick, confident and aggressive, she quickly weaved through the crowd and out of the Leaky Cauldron and onto a deserted street in Muggle London.

 

Pulling the hood up on her black cloak as snow began to fall again, she started to walk towards a street where she knew she could catch a cab. While she walked her mind drifted back to how she just killed a couple of drinks with a certain red-head who had irritated her throughout their time at Hogwarts together -- though he didn't seem quite as irritating as he had been in their youth.

 

Pansy realized that she wasn't the same person either now that she didn't have to act a certain way twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. She was, however, surprised to see just how different he had become. Physically, he was even more impressive; his frame had filled out. He wasn't lanky anymore. Well in relative words. He looked like a man now – instead of a boy. And that hair. Pansy let out a chuckle, thinking about how it was way too long for a guy, but it looked good on him. It gave him a youthful, playful image while still looking like an adult. Just what he needed to run a store that catered to children and people who wanted to act like one. But there was something else that was different. He seemed vastly older than twenty-one. His eyes, especially. There appeared to be more behind those blue eyes then he was letting on and that intrigued her. The Weasley she remembered had this knack of saying whatever he thought, in the most blunt and rude manner. Now he seemed to think before he spoke; making him somehow older and wiser. And definitely more dangerous.

 

Her mind was so far gone, thinking about him and the improbable manner in which she had spent her evening that she didn't realize that she had walked all the way to her and Draco’s flat without ever flagging a cab. Shaking her head at the realization that she had let her mind wander so badly, she desperately tried not to think of how much danger she put herself in. She figured that at least she had finish killing an appropriate amount of time, to safely arrive without fear of her mother lying in wait.

 

Seeing the bright crimson door, which Draco kept begging her to change; she quickly climbed the stairs to the front door and disappeared inside. Upon putting her cloak in the entry wardrobe she frowned as she caught a glimpse at Draco's evening cloak already hanging. With a couple quick flicks of her wrist, she transformed her boots into flats and her belt instantly became a floor length satin black skirt that coordinated with the black halter top she had on and hid her jeans. Anyone who had seen her earlier at the ball would not know that she hadn't been dressed this way all evening. 

 

Regardless, she wasn't in any hurry to experience the attack she anticipated from Draco who found her suffering at the hands of her parents enjoyable. After lingering as long as she could in the hall, she lazily made her way into the kitchen, which was oddly the first room one entered in their flat and set about making a cup of cocoa. 

 

She was about to turn and head into the front parlor and up the stairs to the sanctuary of her bedroom, when she heard Draco's lazy voice in its naturally cruel manner. “I'm impressed. For once, I didn't see you leave.”

 

Pansy shook her head before turning around to face him. Leaning back against the counter, she nonchalantly gripped the mug with two hands, “I don't know what you mean,” she replied before taking a sip.

 

“Yes you do,” he continued, leaning up against the door frame. “You haven't lasted past ten at the Christmas Ball since we were twelve, except for maybe last year. So, where did you go?”

 

“What's it to you as long as I was safe?” she taunted as her foot started to tap, wanting to beat that smirk off his face. However, she settled on letting her mouth run wild. “I don't belong to you anymore. In fact, I seem to recall it's the other way around.”

 

Draco's face grew dark as she matched his glare with her own.

 

“Didn't your father teach you anything about choosing your battles,” she smirked, unable to stop even if she wanted to. 

 

“It was a simple question, not an invitation to do battle. Would you mind not tapping your bloody foot?” he growled, his hand pinching his nose. 

 

She complied and watched him push away from the wall, his eyes narrowing even further, “You know, I think I liked you better when you were nothing more than a prop.”

 

There was a time that those words would have stung, but now, she was just past caring. Pansy just continued to sip her cocoa, keeping her eyes on Draco as he struggled to keep his cool.

 

“You know,” she started casually, feeling like twisting the knife a bit further, “I was under the impression that I still was.  At least, that's what it feels like. But we can owl your mother to see if she feels the same way. Oh, wait; this wasn't how the spell was supposed to work, was it?”

 

Draco's thin grasp on his temper snapped at that very moment. The sound of his fist connecting with the door frame echoed through the ground floor of their shared flat. Pansy watched as he starred at the dent in the door frame, while opening and closing his right fist. She should have just let him have his fun and tease her but she just found herself not wanting to take it.  Having spent so much time lately fighting with her father, she was unwilling to let anyone else get to the high ground before she did. . 

 

“I'm going to bed,” she started pushing away from the counter and moving across the kitchen. “Night.”

 

Draco's eyes never left whatever he was starring at as he mumbled, “Night.”

 

Pansy walked past him and up the stairs. She was half way up the stairs when she heard glass start to break. Sighing, she continued up the first flight. Pansy heard the furniture start to break when she started on the second flight. And as it had every time before, since they moved into this flat, Draco stopped breaking stuff by the time she finished climbing the third flight of stairs to get to her bedroom suite. 

 

Guilt started to eat at her by that time. Pansy knew she was completely in the wrong for pushing him to this point. It had been months since she had pushed him this far.

 

Suddenly remembering her promise to him all those months ago, she found herself frozen in place, unable to go to her bedroom but unwilling to go back down stairs and apologize. 

 

Sighing, Pansy took a seat on the top of the stairs. She knew what had happen years ago wasn't Draco's fault. He had been as much of a pawn in his father's twisted plan as she had been both times. No matter how many times she had tried to tell Draco over the years, he just couldn't stop feeling guilty of the damage done to her and, when her temper got the better of her, she couldn't bring herself to let him forget it. 

 

No matter how much she adored the man who had been her everything for so long.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 – Nothing Goes Right

 

Pansy didn't think the word cranky did justice to what she was feeling right now. She should have been at home, in the comfort of her bedroom hiding from her parents on the bank holiday. But no, she had to be called into work because for some unknown reason Potter had decided that the Aurors needed her and her alone on standby while they went on a raid. He had completely overlooked the simple fact that it wasn't her turn to pick up the extra potions work from the Aurors. To top it off, she had only gotten about an hour's worth of sleep, trying to find the words to apologize to Draco. However, she hadn't apologized, hadn't gotten any sleep, and the combination was adding to her dark mood.

 

After standing around twiddling her fingers for the first hour in her lab as she waited to be called to either go to the scene or receive instructions, she went to work on a new batch of Veritaserum to alleviate her boredom.  However as time passed, and no work from the field came in, Pansy became frustrated. She was now stuck at work, working on something that could have waited. Putting the finishing touches on the new batch, she started to arrange the vials that needed to be filled. Pansy had yet to figure out how the Aurors managed to go through Veritaserum as quickly as they did. She had, on more than one occasion, gone to her boss about her concerns, but she had been shut down and quickly reminded that her job as a potions master was just to make the damn potion – not to question its use.

 

With a wave of her wand, the vials started to fill themselves while she began to clean up the rest of her lab. That was the only nice thing about being the potion master assigned to the Department of Mysteries, she had a lab all to herself; while the other four who were on rotation had to share one lab. With no annoying co-workers to bug her, she was able to focus on her work without suffering through a barrage of questions she had no desire to answer.

 

It was seven thirty in the evening before she finished everything up. Picking up her bag to head out the door, the bottle of firewhisky she had slipped inside before running out the front door that morning caught her attention.

 

“Bloody hell!” she cussed out loud. She had planned on stepping out earlier to have the bottle delivered to Ron, but it was too late to do that now.

 

Seeing that she had nothing better to do this evening and no overriding desire to hurry home, only to get into it again with Draco, she figured she would just take it by the store herself. Using the Floo Network, she Flooed to Diagon Alley. As was her habit when she was in Diagon Alley, she pulled the rubber band out of her hair, letting her hair fall down in order to cover her face. She was already in a foul enough mood as it was..

 

It was nearly eight P.M. by the time the store came into sight. Granted with all the bright colors and lights, it wasn't hard to miss. Walking up to the door, she saw that it was extremely close to closing time making it the best news she had heard all day. Because it would mean that Ron would be itching to get home, she could make a quick escape back to the sanctuary of her bedroom which had escaped her in the last twenty-four hours.

 

Taking a deep breath to settle the case of nerves that seem to take over her as she reached for the handle, she opened the door and she walked into the blinding light and color that was Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

 

“Can I help you?” Pansy heard Ron call from somewhere in the store. Looking around quickly before she responded, she breathed a sigh of relief that it appeared that there was no one else in the store.

 

“No,” she called back, walking over to the elevated counter where people could pay for their goods. “But I think I can help you. I have the bottle of firewhisky I owe you. ”

 

“Thank Merlin,” Ron replied moving towards the front of the store. “I thought you were one of those annoying customers that come in just before the shop is supposed to close...Weren't you just going to have that sent over?”

 

“I was,” she said turning to face him, “but I had the bad fortune to be called into work by eight this morning and I've only just got away.”

 

“So much for asking if you had a better day today?” he grinned.

 

“Let's not go there,” she replied, setting the bottle on the counter, purposefully turning the label away from him so he couldn't say anything until after she left. “However, the countdown to New Year's has begun and then I'll be free and clear of my mother's matchmaking parties for another three hundred and fifty-eight days. Well, I'll let you get closed up. Enjoy the bottle.”

 

She was almost at the door when she heard him call out, “You don't have to go.”

 

“I figured you would want to get the shop closed up and head home to empty that bottle,” Pansy replied, turning to look at him without panic etched all over her face, in spite of it racking her internal system. “Merlin knows there's a bottle of wine waiting for me when I get home.”

 

“Actually, it would be nice to have the company,” Ron said pulling the blinds on the windows.

 

Pansy cocked her head to look at him trying to figure out what was motivating him. She wasn't used to anyone who wasn't family being nice to her, which made her extremely uneasy. Studying his face, she decided that he seemed to be genuine in regards to his offer.

 

“Are you sure?” she asked, starting to wonder what parallel universe she had entered when a purported foe was nice while the one she considered to be her best friend was the pain in her arse.

 

“I wouldn't offer otherwise,” he said bluntly. “Anyway, there's liquor already here,” she watched as he summoned two glasses which landed next to the bottle, “and now there are two glasses.”

 

“Oh.” Pansy knew she should just leave, but the prospect of having company with someone who wouldn't antagonize her or question every little decision she made in her life like she was four was, in the end, too much for her to pass up. “One drink.” she motioned with her hand.

 

“See, that wasn't hard,” Ron said, locking the front door. “Are you always this suspicious?”

 

“Yes. Aren't you suspicious of me?”

 

“Of course,” he said, moving towards her.

 

“Then why are you being nice?”

 

“I don't know,” he shrugged. “Why are you?”

 

He had her there. Shaking her head, she replied, “I don't know either.”

 

“Do you think we've lost our minds?” she asked, climbing up on the counter to have a seat. At that very moment, she realized just how tall he was. And she thought Draco was tall. Ron had to have at least four or five inches on Draco. It amazed her that she finally could look him directly in the eye without looking up.

 

“Only explanation,” he replied with a laugh, picking up the bottle. She watched him spin the bottle in his hand to look at the label. Biting her lip, she prepared herself for the worse as his eyes widen. Turning to face her, he asked, “Parkinson, are you sure?”

 

She nodded her head, “I put it up. Don't fret,” she lied, “I'll just pilfer another one from my father's liquor cabinet on New Years.” She figured that he didn't need to know that there were eleven more bottles of it at her flat.

 

“If you're sure...”

 

“Just pour the damn drinks, Weasel,” she fussed. “Circe, it's only a bottle of firewhisky.”

 

“And one that costs 100 galleons a bottle,” he said under his breath as he poured the drink. Pansy was sure she wasn't supposed to hear it, and bit her tongue in order not to let the insult she had there come out.

 

He handed her a drink. “So what should we toast?”

 

“To determined mothers?” Pansy smirked, taking a glass out of his outstretched hands. “Or bad Christmases?”

 

“Determined mothers,” Ron grinned. “Without mine, I wouldn't be drinking this.”

 

“Cheers then,” she replied, clinking her glass with his before taking a drink. “Still as good as ever.”

 

She noticed a questioning look on Ron's face. “It's my favorite. My father gets me some every Christmas. Drives my mother crazy.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Weasel, don't you know anything? You aren't supposed to give a girl firewhisky for Christmas, or for her birthday, for that matter.”

 

“Your father gives you firewhisky for your birthday too?” Ron asked, amazed, as he cast a charm to start cleaning the shop.

 

“Yes. It's better than all the clothes and jewelry my mother gives me that I end up returning,” she smiled, feeling more relaxed than she had in some time. That realization bothered her, but she tried not to focus on it. And then, before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “Do you want some help?”

 

She watched as Ron stopped what he was doing to just look at her. She suddenly felt naked

the way his bright blue eyes just stared at her in amazement. Pansy bit her lower lip and

started to fiddle with her hands. She hated it when people stared at her. She especially hated

the way Ron was looking at her because she couldn't quite anticipate his reaction, and her

ability to anticipate a person's next move had become the survival technique she depended

on more than anything else.

 

“No, that's okay,” he replied, snapping out of whatever train of thought he had slipped into. “I didn't think Slytherins did any of their own cleaning. Isn't that what house-elves are for?”

 

Pansy found herself offended at first until her brain registered that he, Ron Weasley, was teasing her. No one teased her. Taunted, yes. Scolded, yes. Teased, never in a million years. She found her jaw moving up and down but nothing coming out. He noticed her inability to form any sound or words at the moment, leading him to let out a loud, robust laugh that filled the store.

 

“Kneazle got your tongue, Parkinson?” he gasped.

 

All Pansy could come up with at the moment was to stick her tongue out at him, which only caused him to laugh harder; Pansy found herself starting to laugh at the sheer stupidity of the situation in which she found herself. She had never known laughter to be so infectious or contagious, depending on how you looked at it.

 

Somehow her ability to speak properly came back. “I'll have you know, Weasel, that I manage to keep my flat clean without the help of a house-elf.”

 

“Better not let your Slytherin pals know. They may just kick you out of your House.”

 

As she took a long sip, a smirk covered her face. “I haven't gotten kicked out yet.”

 

It was Ron's turn to be left speechless, which made Pansy feel just a tiny bit better about him getting the best of her earlier. Throwing him a bone, a smile stretched across her face as she told him, “Malfoy, Nott, Goyle – they all know.”

 

“You're kidding me,” he choked out. “I thought you came...”

 

She cut him off, “Yes. But I like my privacy a lot more. And really, it seems really silly to have a house-elf when it's just you and your roommate. Though there have been times I wanted one, just to deal with Draco's slovenliness.”

 

“I bet he has nothing on me,” Ron joked back, having finally regained his voice. “I have to make a path just to get to bed on a regular basis. Drives everyone, including Harry's house-elf, Kreacher, insane.”

 

“But are you dirty or just plain messy?” she asked, pouring herself another drink.

 

“Messy.”

 

“That's better. Draco has had a house-elf wiping his ass for so long, I'm surprised that he even knows how to do that,” Pansy thought that comment alone would elicit another laugh from Ron. The loud roar that came out of his mouth was her reward.

 

“Wow,” Ron said after a few moments. “If you say that about your flat mate, what do you say about your enemies?”

 

“Azkaban is too good for his rotting soul,” she spat, throwing back the rest of her drink.

 

The burn of the alcohol going down her throat brought her back to reality. The rush of shame flowed through her body, as she realized that for the first time she had actually vocalized what she thought about Lucius Malfoy. Blushing, she sat down her glass and slid off the counter. She couldn't bring herself to look in Ron's direction. Here he was being nice and she had to act like a bloody fool. She had basically admitted to something she couldn't explain to a living soul outside the family.

 

“I'm sorry. I was out of line,” she stuttered, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. “I'll just get out of here and let you finish cleaning up in peace and quiet before I completely ruin your evening.”

 

She had almost made it to the door when she felt a hand grab her and pull her back. Pansy knew he was only being nice and trying to comfort her, but she fought back struggling to get out of his grip. She was so embarrassed and ashamed of her behavior at that very moment that it was struggle to hold back the few tears that hadn't yet escaped her eyes.

 

“Please, just let me out of here,” she begged. She heard the door unlock, and pulling her arm out of his hand, she ran out the front door towards the Leaky Cauldron.

 

“Pansy!” she heard Draco's voice call out to her from behind. Stopping on a dime, she spun and ran straight to him. Colliding with him hard, her arms wrapping around his neck, she felt him stumble back a few steps to regain his balance as he wrapped his arms around her. Sobbing into the crook of his neck, she tried to listen to the soft words he was whispering in her ear to no avail as he rubbed her lower back in an attempt to calm her down.

 

“Take me home Draco,” she cried. “Please take me home.”

 

She heard Draco sigh but did as she told him to do, Apparating them to the sitting room of their shared flat.

 

Pansy let him hold her a little while longer in the sitting room, but only because he didn't ask what had upset her. She didn't even fight him when he swept her up into his arms and carried her to bed. At that point, she finally had run out of tears and found herself too tired to fight him regardless. Giving into sleep, she didn't realize that he had tucked her safely into bed until the morning sun woke her.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3--Part One

Chapter 3 – Mental One, Part I

 

“Sod it all to hell!” Pansy yelled, throwing a nearby jar of toad eyes against the wall after a putrid smelling gas started emerging from her cauldron as the liquid turned puce. She continued her tirade by launching every jar that was in reach and screaming “Bloody Potion!” with each crash against the wall.

 

“I didn't know cussing while throwing ingredients was a step in potion making. Maybe I should have paid more attention to Snape's lectures after all,” a casual voice said from behind, seemingly unaffected by her tirade.

 

Pansy spun around to find Ron Weasley casually leaning against the closed door to her lab. She watched as a grin spread across his face, making her feel self-conscious. Gods, she hated that feeling. Especially now, because she knew she looked a mess. Her hair, which she had typically and neatly pulled back within an hour of being in the lab today, had been transformed into a rat's nest piled on her head, held in place by a couple of quills and who knows what else she jabbed up there; her protective eye wear was perched on the top of her head. Given that she had a private lab, she always went without the regulation robe and preferred to just wear work boots, jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt. Worst of all, due to her lack of success this morning, more of the various attempts at this particular potion were on her clothes. Oh, and she couldn't forget the splatter from her latest tirade, which was probably on her face as well as her clothes.

 

“What are you doing here?” she asked, wiping some sweat and a few unknown substances off her forehead with the back of her hand, trying to reclaim some semblance of being calm and collected. She knew she was failing miserably on that accord. At the moment, she was anything _but_ calm and collected.

 

“Did you know your flatmate has a big mouth?” Ron asked, pulling her chair from behind the desk to sit in it. She envied his natural casualness.

 

Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, Pansy carefully stated, “Gossips like a bloody girl is more like it.”

 

“True,” Ron replied, leaning back in the chair and propping his feet up on her crowded desk. “Overheard him in the store last night asking Goyle if a Whizbang up your arse would break the funk that you've been in the past few days. Want to talk about it?”

 

“No,” she snapped. She didn't want to talk about it at all. She especially did not want to talk about it with the red head sitting in her chair, in her lab, probably putting all sorts of dirt on her paperwork, when she was already in a temper about something else.  Most importantly, she wanted to be left alone so she could make plans for just how she was going to castrate the Ferret tonight with dull, rusted instruments and display her work on pikes, perhaps on the London Bridge. Until she admitted to herself that all that work might be a bit much for something so small. “How did you know where I worked?”

 

“Told you. Your flatmate has a big mouth.”

 

“He only knows I work at the Ministry,” she snapped back, starting to tap her foot.

 

“And so does my best mate.”

 

“Doesn't tell me how you found my lab.”

 

“That's my little secret,” Ron grinned, completely unaffected by the temper tantrum Pansy was working herself slowly back into, which annoyed her even further. Even Goyle, slow and thick headed as he was, knew better than to hang around when she got into this foul of a mood. “Anyway, I think everyone knows where you work today, with the amount of cussing you were doing when I first came in. By the way, I'm impressed. I thought I had a vulgar mouth, but I'm as innocent as a unicorn when compared to you. Mind giving me lessons sometime?”

 

Her tantrum quickly iced. Pansy paled as she stopped tapping her foot.  She didn't think anyone could hear her with the door closed, at least that was what her worthless boss told her when she had been shown her lab for the first time. If it was true that her door wasn't soundproof, that meant she would be faced with another write-up awaiting her signature when she got in tomorrow morning, courtesy of one Mr. Percy Weasley.

 

_Great_ , she thought, _so much for not getting one every month this year_. _And I had been on a roll too; having gone six weeks without one._

 

“How do you think I found your lab?” Ron teased, breaking her out of her thoughts.

 

“I thought that was your little secret?” she retorted with a huff, glaring back with her arms across her chest, her foot starting to tap again.

 

Ron just ignored her tantrum, adding to Pansy's annoyance by simply replying, “Guess I gossip like a bloody girl too. Is that a trait you bring out in guys? Or just the ones who dare to tango with you?”

 

Pansy tried, but she couldn't help the smile that slowly stretched across her face, giving in with a sigh and a shake of her head. “So what do you want Weasley?”

 

“Told you. Heard you were in a bit of a funk.”

 

“I'm always in a bit of a funk,” she replied softly, leaning back against the counter behind her. “Have you merely forgotten that from our school days? Or did you not pick that up from the Ferret's gossiping?”

 

“Does he know you call him that?”

 

“Yes. But we don't know if he knows that Goyle does.”

 

Ron's laughter filled the room. Pansy didn't know how, but that sound was making her feel better. She let another smile emerge and went back to where her most recent failure was still simmering in a cauldron. A flick of her wrist made the sour smelling potion disappear.

 

“That's better,” she said out loud, not to anyone in particular.

 

Setting her wand on the counter, she walked towards the blackboard where she had sketched out instructions and started to erase them. Pansy could feel Ron's eyes upon her but it was oddly cathartic. He seemed to be as comfortable with silence in the presence of another person as she was, and it was refreshing. Gods knew that Draco never seemed to have learned the lesson of how to shut up. A silent room seemed to be his version of purgatory.

 

“What are you working on?” Ron's voice finally broke the silence.

 

“Just trying to determine the identity of a potion that some Aurors brought in,” Pansy explained, rewriting the ingredients on the newly cleaned blackboard. “However, I can't seem to get anywhere with it. Being a bit stuck at the moment, I've been reduced to simply cussing the potion and its ingredients into oblivion.”

 

“Is this what you do every day?”

 

“Not every day. Sometimes I just brew potions that the ministry needs. Other days I do a lot of reading and testing as part of my own research for the ministry.”

 

“Do you like what you do?”

 

“I actually do,” she snapped, turning around to face him. “But everyone's allowed to have a bad day at work, don't you think?”

 

“Of course I do,” Ron said, kicking back in the chair and resting his feet on the desk again. She wondered when he had taken them down in the first place. “I had one the other day.”

 

“As bad as me filling my lab with putrid smelling gases at least seven times in the last two hours?” she replied, setting down her chalk and climbing up onto a table to sit. It had quickly becoming obvious to her that she wasn't going to get anything important accomplished with him sitting less than ten feet away from her.

 

“Nothing like that,” he said, putting his hands behind his head. “I had this mental girl in the store who got all embarrassed over getting upset.  Don't really understand why she did. We've all got our demons. War kind of does that. Especially when most of us were kids when we fought in it.”

 

“A mental girl?” Pansy asked, feeling the heat rise to her face.

 

“Absolutely off her rocker. I hear living in the dungeons will do that to a person,” Ron's whole face lit up as he teased her. “Is that true?”

 

“Is that why you're here?”

 

“Nah,” he continued. “I came here to warn you about your flatmate wanting to shove Whizbangs up your arse. I figure I owe you for chipping in such a good bottle of firewhisky for swapping sob stories on Christmas.”

 

“And frankly, how do you know the mental girl is you? Do you know how many mental girls come into the store? I mean, there's my sister for starters, and Luna Lovegood's usually not far behind her. We all know that despite being one of the sweetest people alive, Luna pretty much takes the cake when it comes to mental girls.”

 

“That she does,” Pansy grinned as she relaxed. She wasn't entirely sure how he was able to disarm her so easily, but she found herself starting not to care.  “So about this absolutely mental girl?”

 

“Is welcome to go mental anytime she wants in the store – after closing that is. Can't be scaring off the customers,” he told her standing up. “I better let you get back to swearing your potion into next year. Heaven forbid you should slack at work.”

 

“Ron,” Pansy called out as he reached the door. “Thank you.”

 

“Not a problem. Anytime,” he said with a smile. Pansy watched him open the door and walk out as he quickly looked back at her with a soft smile before closing it  behind him.

 

She sat on the table for several minutes after he left , just staring at the door, wondering how the bloody hell Ron Weasley had become a part of her life. Even more shocking and confusing to her was exactly how the bloody hell she had become a part of his.

 

It was only a few days ago that they had become reacquainted and civilized to each other. In her logical, potion driven mind, nothing about his visit made sense. Especially after she behaved like a fool in the store the other night. The whole situation was absolutely irrational, illogical, and more than insane. How could they be friends? They were night and day. He was a noble Griffyndor and she was a snarky Slytherin. He was a war hero; she was, well, she was the Anti-Christ of the Battle of Hogwarts. They were by all intents and purposes incompatible --

 

Then it hit her. She knew what she was doing wrong with the potion. Sort of.

 

Scrambling back to the board, time seemed to slip by as she scribbled out her idea and went to work on the potion. Two ingredients that she had identified surprised her – morning glory and wormwood. It was well known that they clashed in potion making by intensifying the other's hallucinatory properties to fatal proportions, both being powerful and deadly hallucinogens by themselves. She had been trying to make them work together on their own. But she had just realized that she hadn't tried adding them at the same time – especially if they were prepared the same way. And maybe stewed together first.  At that point, her mind officially went on overdrive.

 

After a few attempts, a particularly distinctive scent started to emit from her cauldron, tugging at something Professor Snape had once said during her individual lessons. Something about a potion with a distinctive woodsy smell. 

 

Hell, she couldn't even remember just what type of woodsy smell Professor Snape had said. Was it grass or trees? Or was it something else? What do people smell in the sodding woods?

 

Charming a spoon to stir every 10 minutes, she started to pull books out of bookcases that took up two walls in her lab. She found herself looking for any clue or hint that would trigger exactly what Professor Snape had told her. As her frustration mounted, she started slinging discarded books away onto the floor when they couldn't immediately provide her with the answer she needed immediately.

 

A few hours later and her office looked like someone had set a bomb off in it. Pansy, herself, was surrounded on the floor with books and parchments.

 

Suddenly, the potion started to give off a new smell. No longer woodsy in quality, it was the smell of –

 

Her heart stopped and the book she was holding tumbled from her hands. Jumping up, she took off out of her office. She was half-way down the hallway before she remembered she left her office open.

 

Running back, she pulled the door closed and sealed it so no one else could enter it before running back towards the Auror offices. Specifically, towards the Auror who had charged her with the project, at break neck speed. Fortunately for her, it was already past six in the evening and most of the ministry employees were gone for the day. She slid to a stop at Potter's cube, out of breath.

 

“Got it,” she said, breathing heavily.

 

“Got what, Parkinson?” Potter growled, not looking up from the paperwork on his desk. His head barely cleared the mounds he had piled up. She never understood how he could work like that, or find anything, for that matter.

 

“The potion you captured on the Boxing Day raid. I know what it is,” she gasped, trying to catch her breath. Adding quietly, “And it's not good.”

 

“Of course it's not good,” he snapped, not looking up. “We did take it from Bartholomew's place. Tell me something I don't already know.”

 

“Maybe I'm not being clear on my definition of 'it's not good,'” she snapped back, still trying to collect her breath, casting a privacy charm on Potter's cube with a flick of her wrist. ”I know what the potion is and it is so bad it makes Voldermort look like nothing more than a spoiled child and Greyback a sad little puppy.”

 

That got his attention. His head popped up immediately.

 

“What the bloody hell is it?” His green eyes narrowed suspiciously as he collected himself. Pansy hated it when he doubted her on projects that came under his directive. Especially the ones where he went over her boss' head and had Kingsley assign them to her.

 

Out of annoyance, she started to tap her foot, to feel a little more in control before replying, “It's a precursor to Veritaserum that was banned in the 14th century.”

 

“And it's not good because?”

 

“It extracts the truth from the victim through pain and hallucinations,” she lowered her voice.

“It will eventually kill whoever ingests it after making them go mad first.”

 

Potter stared at her, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes, “There's something more

isn't there?”

 

“Potter. This potion is the reason werewolves exist.”


	4. Chapter 3--Part Two

Chapter 3 – Mental One, Part II

 

“What?” Potter mouthed, as his jaw dropped.

 

Pansy breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that she finally had his complete attention now.

 

“The potion was called Lycanserum. The people who were subjected to it would claim that it felt as if they were bitten by wolves. Lycanserum victims also described experiencing these horrible visions of watching the wolves bite them as well as transform during a full moon. The word, lycanthropy, initially only describe the effects of the potion on people.”

 

Pansy knew her description of the potion wasn't the clearest, but even with the research she'd done on the subject she was still fuzzy with the details. There simply was not enough information in existence today to form a detailed picture.

 

“The serum fell out of favor for two reasons: one, it ultimately created werewolves and they never found an antidote to it; the other is that it came to the Wizard's Council's attention that werewolves could create other werewolves through bites during their transformations.”

 

“Mind you that only a couple of individuals who were subjected to the Lycanserum ever escaped from the Council. I know of fifteen known escapees from about 10,000 people they used the serum on, in the 150 years it was commonly used. And yes, the Council did knowingly use the serum in spite of knowing that it changed people into werewolves – they were just executing them instead of letting them go or finding other means of interrogation. Well, at least until public outcry changed their mind in 1375, when Hogwarts was attacked by a pack of werewolves who killed five children.”

 

“You are telling me that they used this without an antidote?” Harry whispered.

 

“That's exactly what I'm telling you,” she replied as Potter grew even more pensive. His hands started to rub his temples as if he was in pain. Pansy didn't quite understand why. Abruptly, his head popped up, his eyes starting to glare at her. She didn't understand what she had done, scooting a bit further back in her chair to regain some distance from an irate Potter. It wasn't like it was her fault that the Aurors had captured a potion that had been banned for over 600 years.

 

“Could you stop tapping your foot?”

 

“Oh,” she gasped. “Sorry.”

 

She waited patiently for him to recover, taking a seat in the spare chair in the cubical with her feet under her so she could hopefully control her fidgeting. She didn't have to wait long before he asked, “So there is no known antidote? Even now?”

 

Sighing, Pansy shook her head. “Correct on both accounts. I don't know how anyone made the potion to begin with. I can't find the directions written anywhere in my library and I have all of Professor Snape's books. If it isn't in there, I don't think it exists in writing anymore. I can check the Malfoy library, but I doubt it's there either. I know Professor Snape cleaned many of the more dangerous potions books out of that library years ago.”

 

“Can I ask you, then, how do you know what the potion is?”

 

“Because I just made it by pure dumb luck,” she whispered. “Professor Snape had mentioned the potion briefly when he was teaching me the Wolfsbane potion. I found descriptions of it in some older texts but I haven't come across complete instructions, or even partial instructions. In fact, even the descriptions are limited, most of them focusing on the smell it emits when it is finished.

 

“The potion I managed to brew today meets all the physical descriptions I can find. It's

a match. I know it even without the verification tests.””

 

“Are you absolutely, positively sure?”

 

“You can come back with me and do the test yourself, but there is no doubt in my mind that it is Lycanserum. The smell it emits is that distinctive.”

 

“And what smell would that be?”  
  


“Blood.”

 

Potter just stared at her wide-eyed, not saying anything. She started to fidget with her hands.

 

“Please don't do that,” he asked, “Do you think you could make it again?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“How about an antidote? Do you think you could come up with one?”

 

“That I don't know. The easy part about antidotes is figuring out the quantities and ingredients. What Slughorn never taught you all is, that the hard part is putting it together – which is more of an art and a great deal of luck rather than following scientific logic,” she truthfully responded. Sighing, “Anyway, wizards worked on it for two hundred years before that potion was banned. If Professor Snape, the potion master who perfected the Wolfsbane potion, never came up with anything, I seriously doubt that I can.”

 

“Your lab is private, isn't it?”

 

“Completely off topic, but of course it is. You know that.”

 

“Lock the captured sample in your lab. If anyone asks, just tell them you are still working on it.”

 

“What if they want the sample?”

 

“Give them something else that looks like it. I know you can come up with something convincing. Hell, you probably could fool the other four potion masters.”

 

“Potter...” she growled, thinking how many Ministry rules that would break. She couldn't get away with breaking that many rules, though she had no doubt in her mind that Saint Potter could.

 

Potter sighed, leaning back in his chair. Pansy could tell his mind was elsewhere as he spoke, “Destroy the sample you made and any notes you have regarding it. If you need paperwork, to show your boss that you have been working on it, fake it. I don't want anyone to know how to make this potion. Or that there is someone other than you who is able. Off the record, see what you can do about an antidote.”

 

“Why?” she asked apprehensively. Though it was well known that Potter was willing to bend and break any rule he needed to get the job done, it wasn't every day that he asked anyone else to break the rules. She would be lying to herself if she said she wasn't slightly concerned about him even asking her to do so.

 

“Thinking we need to be prepared.”

 

She knew he was lying but she wasn't going to push it, despite all her reservations about knowingly breaking Ministry protocol in a criminal case against this latest outcrop of dark wizards.  Unfortunately, she knew she desperately needed a break from her research anyway; it was just so depressing to work day in and day out on something she was incapable of experiencing.

 

Not wanting to reveal her true motivations for acquiescing to his request, because she was frankly unsure of how honest Potter was with her father, she pointed out, “If that's the case, then why not tell Percy and I can devote all my time to it, especially here in my lab without my research and other responsibilities as a distraction.”

 

“I'd rather not get him involved. I thought you liked a challenge. Especially one that not only is forbidden, but one that could potentially keep you out of your father's office and your mother's social calendar. As well as suitably distracted from your research,” Potter whispered, leaning forward with a knowing smirk stretched across his face. Pansy started to squirm under his stare. She hated him at that very moment because they both knew he had her where he wanted her. “So, isn't the prospect of this particular challenge outside of your research and normal duties enough for you to bite? Literally?”

 

She sat and gave him  the impression that she was contemplating it when it actuality, she had already made her mind up. Pansy didn't want him to know that he was absolutely, positively 100% right in her motivations to take on this little project under the radar. After a few minutes, she sighed, signaling her acceptance with a wave of her hand.

 

“Sod it. Fine, but don't get your hopes up,” Pansy sighed, figuring she could find a valid reason to avoid her family and familiar commitments out of this project somehow. “You know you are asking for the impossible.”

 

“I don't care,” he replied. Suddenly, his eyes narrowed as he glared at her and warned, “You can't tell anyone about this.”

 

“No shit. I may be a Slytherin but I'm no idiot. Remember I'm not the only one breaking the rules here. Though you will be forgiven if we get discovered, and I'll be thrown in Azkaban,” she said, her eyes traveling to an old picture from their Hogwarts days on his desk with him, Granger, and a bunch of Weasleys waving back. Their eyes met glare for glare until they were both satisfied that the other wasn't going to say anything. “Just keep in mind that Percy Weasley has been trying to find a way to fire me since the moment Kingsley hired me.”

 

“I know.”

 

Pansy failed in masking her surprise as he leaned back in his chair again, “You keep forgetting that you are the best of the potion masters, no matter what the big head boy might squawk about. Why do you think you are requested so often?

 

“No one will let him remove you from your position as long as you want to be here. So please, listen to me when I tell you to stop worrying about all the write ups that Percy makes you sign... It's not like they actually make it into your file anyway.”

 

She knew he was right. She knew Arthur Weasley was right when he told her the same thing. Same with John Dawlish and Kingsley himself. But she couldn't understand why they didn't understand how much it bothered her to work for a boss who was constantly trying to have her fired. Figuring this wasn't the time to go into it with him, Pansy didn't say anything as she dismantled the privacy charm and took her leave.  

 

Forty-five minutes and several cleaning charms later, Pansy found herself standing in the empty Ministry lobby looking like an idiot as she tried to decide if she should just go home or head over to Diagon Alley. As she thought about it, tapping her foot in frustration, she fought the internal battle over what she should do.

 

She knew what she really wanted to do. And what she should do. What her mother would tell her to do. What her father would tell her to do. What Draco would tell her to do. What everyone else would tell her to do.

 

“At least I'll have a piece of happiness tonight,” she muttered sadly to herself as she gave up and damned herself to the consequences that would be forthcoming if she should get caught.

 

Sighing, she stepped into the Floo entrance and said, “Diagon Alley.”

 

Emerging from the public Floo hearth of the Leaky Cauldron, she took a glance at her watch. She figured she still had a little time to grab something for the two of them to eat before heading to the shop. Walking into the Leaky Cauldron, she not only heard the room go still, she felt it.

 

At that very moment, she realized that she had left her hair up, clearly revealing her face. A deep blush of shame flooded her cheeks. Making her way to the bar in the uncomfortable silence  she felt relieved when Hannah came over to her instantly. It appeared to signal to all the other patrons to at least talk amongst themselves.

 

“Hannah, can I get two French dips to go? And some butterbeer?” Pansy asked, pulling out some money. Hopefully, Ron wouldn't think too much of her bringing food for both of them. She hoped that he would see that she didn't want to be rude, since she had managed to overlook lunch and dinner and could quite possibly eat a hippogriff at the moment. All the while, she tried to ignore the whispered conversations that were flying around her.

 

“Sure thing,” Hannah said. “It will just be a minute.”

 

“Thanks. I really appreciate it,” Pansy replied, still trying to ignore the whispers. She didn't

know how Draco did it day after day. This one little slip up was more than a bit hard to bear.

Then again, Draco was marvelously arrogant and self-assured, something she had always

admired and envied about him.

 

Hannah had her order in no time, which Pansy thanked her for again and slipped her a few more galleons before rushing out from the stares of the crowd and more importantly, before    Hannah could refuse the tip. Pansy hadn't realized that she had been holding her breath until the cold December air hit the back of her throat hard as she gasped for a breath. Coughing, she turned and headed to see Weasley, still trying to collect herself but not wanting to linger

in front of the pub.

 

She walked up to the front of the store, just as he was closing the blinds. Waving, she showed him the food she was carrying. He laughed and opened the front door.

 

“What is that?” he asked, as she stepped inside.

 

“Two French Dips,” she told him as she sat the food on the counter before slipping off her cloak and laying it over her bag that she had dropped on the door. “I got so distracted in the lab after you left that I managed to miss lunch and dinner. I figured you probably could use a bit of food too.”

 

“Good call,” he said pulling out the food and butterbeer before jumping onto the counter.

 

She started to thank him again for earlier but he cut her off. “Leave it.”

 

She nodded and climbed up on the counter and was about to dig in to her sandwich when his laugh caught her by surprise. Pansy cocked her head to look at him, puzzled about what exactly was so funny.

 

“What?”

 

“Boy, you weren't kidding about being distracted.”

 

“Huh?.”

 

“You do know Scourgify does wonders on cleaning up potions on clothing,” he pointed out.

 

Pansy looked down to realize that in her desire to escape her lab and not think of what she created today, she managed to clean her lab, her face, and her hair but not garments. Her shirt, jeans and boots where covered in a multitude of colors and Gods knew what else. She half-way hoped that was what people were staring at in the Leaky Cauldron. Grinning, she stuck her tongue out at him and showed him a rude two finger salute.

 

“Some proper young lady you are, Parkinson,” he grinned.

 

“Shut up and eat your food,” she laughed, throwing the empty bag the food had come in at him.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 – Auld Lang Syne

 

Pansy felt two hands reach out, grabbing her by the waist to steady her as she landed on the grate at the store. She allowed the hands to remain on her waist as she steadied herself, though she felt foolish for being so clumsy and ungraceful. Someone would have thought that she had never used the Floo Network before if they had seen her at that moment.

 

“Wow, Parkinson,” Ron said after a long, low whistle. His hands quickly left her waist. “You weren't kidding about it being a ball.”

 

“No, I wasn't. Full to the brim with strutting peacocks and penguins alike,” she replied, stepping out of the fireplace, trying hard not to get any soot on her ice blue ball gown. She was in no mood to send it out for cleaning and deal with her mother finding out that she had to have soot removed from it. Pansy knew her mother and quite possibly her father would kill her themselves if they found out that was how she left the bloody New Year's Ball with all those Muggles there kissing her father’s arse for a multitude of reasons but, mainly because Pendragon Enterprises controlled the British economy more than Parliament.

 

“Shut the damn Floo already, before I get caught. I actually had to make a run for the bloody thing  this year, instead of being able to discretely Apparate, due to the wankers I call my sisters. Do you have any nasty jokes I can play on them as a form of payback? Or even cruel ones, I don't care at the moment,” she raged, struggling with the massive skirts that made up her dress. “Bugger, this dress weighs a ton. Remind me to never do a large princess-y dress ever again. No matter what my mother says. Or orders, for that matter.”

 

“Yes ma'am!” he snapped to attention with a salute and a large grin on his face. “The bag you sent over earlier is in the storeroom. You can change back there. The door is propped open.”

 

“Thanks,” she replied, handing him the two bags she was holding. She stood on her tiptoes, pulling on his arm a bit, so she could place a kiss on his cheek. “I was able to grab two bottles of champagne and some food. I figured you could at least find us a couple of glasses.”

 

“You sure know how to spoil someone,” he said, returning her affection with a kiss on her forehead.

 

“Damn,” she laughed as she started to walk away from him, “You are easy to please. Draco seems to always set me back more than just a few galleons.”

 

“Says the woman who gives up one of the most expensive fire-whiskys around to someone she used to despise.”

 

“Are you complaining?”

 

Pansy expected a retort from him but when she didn't she turned back around to look at him.

 

“Do you hear bells?” Ron asked with a pensive look across his face.

 

Feeling a bit like a little girl again, a huge smile spread across her face. Spinning around, the sound of bells overrode the sound of the fabric swishing, “Uh-huh. It's my dress.”

 

“You charmed your dress to do that?”

 

Shaking her head, Pansy replied, “Not at all.” Bending over to pull up the ice blue overskirt, she continued, “Did it the Muggle way.” Under her over skirt was a layer of petticoats with little silver bells sewn into it, all tied with a fine silver ribbon.

 

“Why? I thought you didn't like the attention.”

 

“I don't, but I actually do this every year. My mum used to do it,” she confessed, feeling her cheeks warm. “I guess you could say it's a tradition.”

 

“Who are you and what have you done with the Parkinson I know? The one who could make a dragon tamer blush?”

 

“What's that suppose to mean?” she exclaimed marching over to him and landing a punch against his arm.

 

Ron grinned as he playfully rubbed his arm. “Oh, there she is. I was thinking you were some Polyjuiced impostor for a moment.”

 

“What?” she exclaimed.

 

His laughter filled the store as he struggled to spit out, “I thought some girly-girl had taken you over.”

 

“I am not a girly-girl!” She gaped at him, punching him again. “Take it back!”

 

“Not if it's true, Princess, in your ball gown and diamonds.  Go get changed!” he continued to laugh, pushing her back in the direction of the storeroom.

 

“Not until you take it back,” she pouted, crossing her arms across her chest. She started to tap her foot but the movement was causing her bells to tinkle and that only led to Ron laugh at her more.

 

“No.”

 

“Yes!”

 

“No.”

 

“Ooohhhhh,” she howled. Throwing her hands up in the air, she cried, “I surrender.” She spun around and marched to the back of the storeroom with Ron's laughter following her. Pansy wouldn't admit it to anyone if they asked later, but she knew she had the biggest smile on her face by the time she entered the storeroom.

 

She saw her bag and her fur lined cloak lying on a work table when she walked into the room. She quickly pulled out the pair of jeans, tank, jumper, gloves and boots, quickly changed out of her cumbersome ball gown, leaving her snowflake diamond necklace on. A quick shrinking spell later, not only was she in much more comfortable cloths but the offending ball gown was safely tucked away in her bag.

 

Leaving her bag there, not wanting to risk anymore teasing over the bells, she went back out to the store with her cloak under her arm and the gloves in her hands, but she didn't see Ron. Figuring he would be back any minute, she started to wander the store; looking at all the different products. Though she had been in the store several times prior to her now daily visits, she never really had the time to look. She always just popped in, picked up what she needed for her kid sisters and slipped away.

 

“I always knew you were the princess type. Even though the big poof-y dress kind of gave it away earlier. By the way, where was your tiara tonight?” Ron's voice came out of nowhere, as she was looking at their princess line.

 

“And I always knew you were the arse type,” she retorted sticking her tongue out, trying desperately to hide how uncomfortable she was at the moment being called a princess by him. “I'm still mad at you for teasing me about the bells on my dress.”

 

“No you're not,” he grinned back at her. Approaching her from the back of the store,, he pulled her away from the princess display. “Ready for this great view of fireworks I was telling you about?”

 

“Lead the way,” she grinned, taking his hand before following him out the back of the store and climbing the stairs to the roof. She had to laugh when she saw that he had put the food and champagne on a table with two glasses and had pulled up two lounge chairs for them to sit in on either side of the table.

 

“You went all out with the furniture,” she teased, plopping down in the closest one, tossing the cloak and gloves at the end of the lounge. “And the warming charm is quite nice.”

 

“There are times I actually do know what I am doing, in spite of popular opinion.”

 

“Obviously, but your secret is safe with me,” she laughed, leaning back to look up at the darkened sky. It felt good to finally relax, after having been on her feet the last three hours, dancing with men who could do nothing more than step on her feet and attempt to take liberties with their hands and mouths. It was so peaceful sitting up on the roof, Pansy knew that she could easily fall asleep after the evening she had had.

 

“How was the ball?” Ron asked, handing her a glass of champagne.

 

“Tolerable. _Salud_ ,” she grinned, clinking her glass with his.

 

“Not that many frogs this year?”

 

“No,” she laughed, taking a sip, watching him take a seat in the other chair and stretching out.  “Still as many frogs, but I didn't have to kiss any of them this year.”

 

“So that made your parents' ball tolerable?”

 

“Well that, and my father and I are in the hurtful phase of our most recent argument, which means that my mother spent most of her time keeping us at least twenty feet away from each other, and that interfered with any matchmaking plans she had for tonight. Oh, and having a planned hide-out for my escape helped my mood too.”

 

“What do you mean?” Ron sat up and turned his body to face her.

 

“I don't understand.”

 

“You said “hurtful phase” of an argument with your father,” he pushed. “Do you two have a pattern to your fights?”

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

“What's going on now? If you don't mind me asking.”

 

“I don't. It's just that my father and I got into a pretty serious argument about two days before Christmas. We usually just need a few days in our separate corners and it all blows over, but with the holidays, we have been forced to be in the same room as each other almost every day for the past week, and the argument progresses. Currently, we are in the phase where we go out of way to try to verbally hurt each other.” Pansy explained. It was childish, she knew. So did her father, but there was so much guilt residing in each that lashing out at the other was the only way they could cope most of the time. “Mother swore that we couldn't say anything worse to the other than the last time we had it out. Unfortunately, we proved her wrong tonight in front of quite a few of the guests and my younger sisters, who ran from the room in tears.”

 

“What did you get an argument over?”

 

Pansy bit her lower lip, thinking hard. She wasn't quite ready to admit to him the exact cause of the fight, she also found herself not wanting to lie to him either.

 

“It's a bit complicated,” she started, “but the important part is my father and I aren't seeing eye to eye on my future or what I should be doing with my life. Pretty typical parent-child argument actually.”

 

“He doesn't like you working at the Ministry?” Ron asked in awe. Leaning back in the chair he quietly added, “That's all my mother wanted us to do. She still bugs me and George on occasion, and the store is doing well.”

 

“Basically,” she nodded, not ready to add how much he didn't like her working at the Ministry.

 

“What does he want you to do?”

 

“I think he'd be happier if I would go to work at the company he works for.”  

 

“Wow. What does he do?”

 

“He's an executive at Pendragon Enterprises,” she fudged, leaving out the part where he was CEO.

 

“Wow.”  
  


“What?”

 

“I just figured it had something to do with you getting married.”

 

“Thankfully, no. That's the fights with my mother,” she responded quickly. Hopefully, he didn't hear anything in her voice that would cause him to press her further about that.

 

Unfortunately, there appeared to be something on the tip of his tongue, so she stretched the truth quickly, “I hate to admit it, but her matchmaking attempts are half-hearted at best, no matter how much I might whine or complain or color the situation. I know my parents would never force an arranged marriage on me again.”

 

“Again?”

 

“I was betrothed until the war ended,” she shrugged.  “It wasn't a love match, as the arrangement had been agreed to when both my intended and I were about 10. Thankfully, all parties allowed me and my intended to put an end to it the whole charade at the end of the war. However, my mother believes it spoiled my attitude on marriage and relationships, which she regrets. I think she puts in all the effort for not only appearances to the rest of Wizarding society, but also as a deep seated hope that I might change my mind about the whole institution.”

 

“And you do your best to circumvent her efforts, despite knowing she won't force your hand?”

 

“Don't you circumvent your mother's?” Pansy whispered quietly, because she knew deep down she really didn't want to constantly destroy all her mother's matchmaking attempts. She couldn't afford to be anything but pragmatic when it came to the idea of her entering into a romantic relationship – hope was for fools. And by now, in this life, Pansy was anything but a fool.

 

They both sat silently as fireworks started going off in the sky in various directions.  From time to time, she felt his eyes upon her but when she would turn to look; his head would quickly swivel away. She took those few moments to look at him closer.

 

He wasn't watching the fireworks. Instead, he seemed to be looking out over the London skyline. Whatever he was thinking about troubled him, she could tell every time a firework lit up the sky and the light reflected in his eyes. Pansy felt bad for him. It wasn't hard to tell even in the few conversations she had had with him in the past few days that marriage was something he wanted. And that he wanted it with Granger but for some reason Granger didn't share his opinion, which blew Pansy's mind.

 

With all the men she had been introduced to in the last four years, she could tell Granger a thing a two about how great a man Ron was and if she didn't shape up, then sooner or later he was going to walk away. Or some female was going to take him away. Someone that would appreciate him.

 

Pansy could see what Granger obviously couldn't – a good, kind, loyal, caring man who would go to ends of the world for the woman he loved. Pansy hated to kill the silence but there was something that had been in the back of her mind non-stop since last evening, when they made plans to hang out at midnight. She still couldn't believe that he wanted to hang out with her on New Years' Eve and not his girlfriend.

 

“Can I ask?” she gently said, still looking over at him, after taking a deep breath. She watched as his face grew darker.

 

“I would rather you not,” he whispered.

 

“Then I'll change the subject,” Pansy promised, turning back to face the star lit sky thinking that a different topic that would do the two of them good. “How was business today?”

 

“Busy. I think we managed to sell all the Whizbangs we had in stock.”

 

“That's great.”

 

“No, it's not,” he replied with a groan. He appeared to be on his way back to his normal self, which Pansy said a quick blessing to the humors for. Unfortunately, she found herself jealous. She was jealous that he could recover so quickly from unpleasant conversations. The only time she seemed capable of doing the same this quickly was when he was around. Pansy just wished she knew if it was him or this recent development of acquiring a new and evidently healthy friendship.

 

 “Means I get to work open to close all this week while George replaces our current stock.”

 

“At least you'll have help with closing the shop,” she teased, reaching to dig into the bag of food, trying to find the plate of sandwiches she'd snitched.

 

“Is that what you call it?” he laughed back. “I call it a bloody distraction.”

 

“See if I bring you another bottle of fire-whisky to help you survive your closing duties,” she stuck out her tongue as she collapsed back into her chair with a plate of finger sandwiches.

 

“You know, I've been looking forward to this,” she confessed out of nowhere, before she could actually stop her mouth.

 

“Why?”

 

“Besides obvious reasons?”  
  


“That I'm not a toad,” he grinned back, nicking the plate from her.

 

“Hey! Well, that doesn't hurt,” she laughed, grabbing two sandwiches back. “I've decided that I kind of like this hanging out with someone without playing games or fighting.”

 

“And here I thought I had a combative personality.”

 

“Don't kid yourself,” she teased, “You do you have a combative personality. And given that I am as vindictive as they come according to Draco, then by my theory we should do nothing but scream at each other. But we don't. Why do you think that is?”

 

“Who knows,” he replied, refilling their glasses. “No offense, though, I never would have taken you for a vindictive person.”

 

She laughed and told him, “Then consider yourself warned.”

 

“Will do.”

 

“Oh, and as a warning, I have been known to pick a fight time to time, so be prepared for pissy-Pansy, as Goyle calls it.”

 

“You pick fights on purpose?” he turned his head to stare at her.

 

“Sometimes,” she replied tentively until his eyes narrowed. “Okay yes, since I just admitted to it being a bad habit, but haven't you ever picked a fight on purpose?”

 

“Yes, but only when I wanted a particular someone's attention,” he admitted, “Haven't you learned that arguing really is a turnoff to most people? Granted, it took me years to figure that one out.”

 

“Of course,” she told him pouring herself another glass. “But I guess I'm just more interested in keeping people away, and it is a very effective method when done right.”

 

Pansy didn't know what she expected Ron to say, but she didn't expect him to fall silent. Sitting up, she turned to face him. She watched as he stared at nothing while fireworks exploded over their heads. Pansy let him have his silence but moved to his chair, leaving her glass on the table.

 

“Why is that?” he asked, not looking at her. “Why do you want to keep people away?”

 

Shrugging her shoulders, she took a seat on the edge of the chair, her body facing him. Looking at him, she quietly said, “I'm afraid of hurting someone who cares about me, but for most people it's a good way to make sure that no one can hurt them.”

 

She watched sadly, as his face darkened again. Pansy felt sick to her stomach. She had promised not to bring up Hermione last night and somehow in the most honest confession she had given anyone in the last few years, she had managed to do so without ever trying.

 

“Do you think that's why Hermione's been picking fights every chance she gets these days?” he whispered. Pansy saw a tear escape. It hurt her to see him look so sad.

 

“I don't know,” she whispered, grabbing his hand. “Have you asked her?”

 

“Asked her what?”

 

“Maybe asked isn't the right word. Have you talked to her and told her you feel like she is pushing you away?”

 

“Yes,” he muttered, his eyes focused on their hands, their fingers now intertwined. She tried to keep her eyes on him, instead of staring at their hands too and trying to figure out how the hell it had happened, and why it wasn't bothering her in the slightest.

 

She could hear a bit of anger in the back of his voice when he said, “She swears she isn't, and then she starts yelling again. Telling me again and again that I don't know what she's going through, but if I ask her to explain it all to me so I can be there for her, she just shuts down and walks away.”

 

“Ron,” she gently asked, rubbing the back of his hand with her thumb, figuring it was now or never to ask the one question everyone else would ask if they knew just where he was, “I know why I'm here on New Year's Eve. But why are you?”

 

“Why are you here?” he replied.

 

“Because I want to be. I want to be somewhere where I can be myself and not get into a screaming match with someone who has a critical opinion about every decision I make and insists that I follow his lead blindly, because evidently he knows better than I do about what to do and how to live in my so-called-existence,” she snapped at the end, breathing deeply, only then realizing that somehow in a single sentence her emotions managed to swing so greatly. Ron's eyes had widened in surprise. Shaking her head and holding her breath momentarily to catch it, she continued as calmly as she could muster. “Sorry. You do realize that are avoiding my question.”

 

“Because I don't want to be where she is.”

 

“And where is that?” she figured it had to be something important, though in all honesty she was surprised by his answer. In their limited conversations, she had come to the conclusion that he was one of those guys who in a relationship wanted nothing more than to spend time with his other half. Evidently, she had missed something, if he didn't want to be where she was, though he consistently complained she was never around.

 

“Anymore? Anywhere she is,” he whispered, removing his hand from Pansy's, hanging his head down like a guilty man burying his face in his hands.

 

_If I had a heart_ , she thought, _it would break at this very moment_.

 

“Ron,” she whispered, pulling his hands away from his face. It took her a moment, but when she finally did, she quickly grabbed his face and held it so he had to look at her, and hopefully hear her, if not see what she was trying to tell him. “Ron, stop beating yourself up. You aren't a bad person.”

 

“Then why do I feel that way? I mean, I'm here on New Year's with a woman who's not my girlfriend of three years. And I don't bloody care what my girlfriend thinks. Or where she even is, because I really don't believe that she is at her parents' on New Year's Eve.”

 

“I don't think you are a bad person. I doubt anyone else would think that too, if they for one minute took the time to see what you are going through with Granger. What she is putting you through. I know you have a heart of gold. That you are genuine in your actions, thoughts, and motivations,” she told him, unconsciously pushing away his hair and running her fingers along his jaw. “If I didn't need a hideout tonight, would you be here hiding out from her?”

 

“Yes,” he whispered.

 

“See, heart of gold,” she whispered back, removing her hand from his face. “No need to feel guilty.”

 

“Friends?” he asked taking her hand in his hand again, a soft smile came with the question that Pansy didn't think he needed to ask to begin with.

 

Pansy offered him a small soft smile and nodded. She went to stand, but Ron gave the hand a small tug, causing her to fall into his lap. Pansy thought about running her mouth but decided better of it when she realized that they both needed this immediate affection. Settling into his lap, she laid back against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. She didn't want to admit it but it felt good to be held; even if it was for his benefit.

 

“You know you could've just asked?” she softly teased, closing her eyes and relaxing.

 

“Didn't feel like pressing my luck,” he whispered, placing a kiss on the top of her head.

 

“Kettle meet cauldron,” she confessed.  It didn't take long before she found herself matching his rhythmic breathing before slipping off to sleep to the natural lullaby. 


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 – Safe Haven

 

“Where is that bloody book?” Pansy exclaimed to her empty bedroom. She began climbing over the piles of texts and parchments on her hands and knees; not quite sure how she misplaced a book that she just had her hands on?  “Merlin!...Circe!...Where the fuck is that bloody book?”

 

“You know,” a cool voice drawled from behind her, “Most people choose to go out on a Saturday night, not stay in to do...to do...what _are_ you doing Princess?”

 

“When have I ever been considered most people, Draco?” she responded, avoiding his question, while still digging for the book. Throwing the books she did come across behind her in frustration, she didn't bother to look at him. Though it was tempting to launch one of them in his direction, she tried to refrain from doing so. However her frustration at not being able to find it finally over took her common sense and she gave into her baser instinct -- launching discarded texts in his direction.

 

Draco sighing stopped her, mid-throw, causing her to drop one on her head with an 'Ow!'

 

Whipping her head around, she narrowed her eyes and glared. “What?”

 

“For once, why don't you be normal instead of just complaining that you wish you were? It is Saturday night,” he commented, leaning up against the door in his standard attire of black on black on black. She watched him run his fingers through his short blonde hair before continuing, “Just come out with us. Goyle, Zabini, Nott and I were planning on going to this Muggle cigar bar in Chelsea.”

 

“Go be a guy,” she said, waving him off, turning her attention back to the piles of texts and parchments on her floor, still trying to find the particular one she needed, “Anyway, I'm so thoroughly distracted with what I'm working on this moment that I won't be much fun or company.”

 

“Even if we let you get Zabini drunk?”

 

“Like you even would after the last time. Even so, I still won't be much company.”

 

“I thought you said that the whole point of you not taking that position with the Harpies was to spend more time learning _your_ business, not to spend more time at the Ministry. Or is this you just being passive-aggressive towards your father because even he wants to see you do more with your life than live in your lab?”

 

Pansy was more than slightly aggravated with that low-blow from Draco. They both knew damn well she couldn't have taken that position with the Harpies even if she wanted too. She snapped back at him, “No. I _had_ planned on spending time learning more of the business. Just so I wouldn't have to see _your_ face every day.”

 

Collecting herself, she sighed knowing that she wasn't being entirely forthright or even fair with Draco. It did make her feel a bit guilty too, even though she knew damn well that he knew she was skirting the truth. Both of them knew that as long as she could stay at the Ministry, she wasn't interested in stepping a foot through the doors of Pendragon Enterprises in any other capacity than as the boss' daughter, Harpies position be damned.  

 

“My workload at the Ministry has increased substantially since Boxing Day due to the increased number of raids. I'm having to juggle my own work-load _and_ special assignments. Evidently, being good at your job has its consequences, as I'm finding out,” she added, trying not to think about all the hours she was spending on Potter's pet project on top of the obscene amount of work that her boss had started sending her way in the past few weeks, while still expecting her to continue her research.

 

“So your work at the Ministry is the only reason you are avoiding your father?”

 

“I'm not avoiding him. No matter what he might tell you.”

 

“Then what do you call it? You are basically refusing to see your father at the moment.”  
  


“A timeout.”

 

“Interesting,” Draco drawled. “Just so we are on the same page with what else is going on in your life, what are you calling your daily visits to Diagon Alley?”  
  


“Stress relief,” she retorted without missing a beat. If there was one thing she knew about Draco, it was when he started questioning your motivations or actions it was best to keep to short answers and respond quickly, with confidence and no hesitation.

 

“So should I ask why you are classifying these visits as stress relief? I never see you with shopping bags like most women.”

 

“Nope. Do you mind making yourself useful during this rather irritating interrogation and helping me find a tan, leather bound book with red Gothic lettering? It's about this thick and about this size,” she added, gesturing the dimensions with her hands.

 

“Fine,” Draco replied, joining her on the floor to sift through her piles. “Can I at least know who you are visiting then?”

 

“No, it's none of your business,” she quickly replied as she pulled out books that somehow had gotten shoved under her bed.

 

Draco let out a low whistle before responding, “Wasn't expecting that.”

 

“Wasn't expecting what?” her muffled voice emerged from under her bed.

 

“I had anticipated you outright lying to me.”

 

“Draco, what are you going on about?”

 

“A Weasel.”

 

Pansy jumped at his comment and hit her head on the underside of her bed. Silently, she cursed herself for giving Draco the upper hand. He was relentlessness when that happened, as she very seldom gave him much ground anymore. Defeated, she pulled herself from underneath her bed. Sitting back, she turned to face him. She could see that he had the book she wanted in his hands and he was casually thumping it against his right hand, in front of the sitting area of her room.

 

“What is this going to cost me?” she whispered.

 

She waited, biting her lip nervously while Draco looked her over. She felt like an animal in a cage at that moment. She was expecting the worst in demands for his silence. It would probably cost her at least new racing broom and a case of fire-whisky, probably Sheridan's finest. As well as a piece of her dignity, more than likely.

 

“Nothing,” he said, tossing her the book. “I already knew. Just wanted to hear the truth from you.”

 

She took the book from him and whispered, “Why?”

 

“Chalk it up to I owe you one.”

 

“Can I get that in writing?” she forced herself to tease him.

 

“I can't believe you even thought to ask that when you know the answer,” he said standing up. “You know, you do need to remember that for this to work, you need to trust me with everything. Which, I might add, is something you've been struggling with lately. Oh, since Christmas Day.”

 

Pansy wasn't sure what she should say and sat there silently before he added, “I'm not used to you keeping secrets from me. At least, not anymore.”

 

Pansy knew he was right. She had been keeping something from him. Something anyone else who knew would consider major – she had become friends with someone who was forbidden to her. Taking a deep breath, “It's not that I don't trust you, Draco.”

 

Draco sighed, “I know, it's just sometimes I wonder who really got the short-end of the straw when it came to our fathers.”

 

“So can this stay between us? Please?” Pansy whispered, feeling as much like a little girl as she sounded at the moment.

 

“You do realize that you won't be the only one your father kills if he finds out.”

 

Pansy nodded, still silently pleading with Draco.

 

“You can't be any more than friends, you know that?”

 

“How could I forget?” she retorted, rolling her eyes. One of these days, someone was going to have to explain to her just why everyone insisted on reminding her of what she was incapable of feeling.

 

“Promise me you will at least get out before you hurt him? I mean it. You hurt him, I will kill you myself before your father or Potter can even lay a hand on you.”

 

“I promise.”

 

“Cannot believe I'm trying to protect the weasel,” he muttered.

 

Finally breaking the silence that had fallen on the room, Draco asked, “Want me to stay at Zabini's tonight?”  
  


“Why?” she asked, puzzled. Attempting to tread lightly, she teased, “You hate staying at his place. Something about him talking in his sleep?”

 

“I do, but he has space, unlike Nott and Goyle.”  A snarky smile started to stretch across his face as he continued, “I figured you are expecting someone and would like a bit of privacy. I mean, isn't that why you are really staying in on a Saturday when you could have plans with four very good looking and wealthy Slytherins?”

 

“No,” she laughed out loud, throwing her head back, a large smile forming across her face. She figured she would be nice and at least throw him a partial bone, hoping it would get him out of her hair faster. “I really have work. Anyway, he has plans tonight that don't include me.”

 

Her laughter quickly iced when she saw Draco's face. His jaw had dropped, his cool grey eyes widened in shock. Any ounce of colour from his already pale face had completely disappeared. She searched his face for some clue as to why he was looking at her in such disbelief. In such amazement. In such wonderment.

 

“Draco?” she asked tentatively, after a few minutes of waiting for Draco to collect himself. “Draco, what's the matter? I haven't seen you like this since...”

 

“Nothing,” he replied, cutting her off as he shook his head. Almost like shaking his head would remove whatever image was going through his mind.  Standing up he kissed her forehead. “I'm going to stay at Zabini's tonight.”

 

“I don't want to hear about it tomorrow,” she called out after him, before stretching out on the floor to read the book Draco found for her.

 

Unfortunately, her distraction kept her from reading a single word. She kept picturing Draco's face in her mind from moments before. She could count the number of times on one hand that she had seen him unable to control what he was thinking, especially when he was surprised. And it had been a few years since the last time.

 

In fact, she knew the last time was during their sixth year, with that quite unforgettable incident. The whole thing had shoved the cold harsh reality of their situation in their faces, affecting their relationship so much that neither one thought that they, as a unit, would survive. But what they did have had miraculously survived, albeit in torn pieces. Evolving, slowly and painfully, into what they had now.

 

She focused on the misery that came forth every time she thought about that incident. The look in Draco's eyes – fear and horror. How he avoided her for days and refused to even look at her for weeks. And then there were all the tears that she had cried when she realized that though he had always known the truth – he had just never believed it until that point. His innocence was firmly gone by her own hand.  

 

Pansy never noticed the fire in her fireplace turn green to tell her someone was on their way. Ron's voice finally tore her water-filled eyes away from the page that she had been staring at and away from unpleasant thoughts about her existence.

 

 “Do you need to get some work done?”

 

She found herself staring at him as he stood near the fireplace; the light of the fire causing his long hair to glow while making him seem taller and even more impressive physically. She could have sworn she had never seen a more impressive figure in her life. He looked like a god to her; a warrior god to be exact. It unnerved her, though, that he appeared so uncomfortable with being there that she half expected him to jump back in the fireplace.

“No,” she said, closing the book and setting it on her bed, hoping that would prevent her from misplacing it again. “I could use a break anyway.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

Feeling slightly irritated at that moment, “Yes,” she snapped with a smile on her face.

 

“Oh. Okay.” She watched him take a seat on the brown leather sofa that formed part of the sitting area of her bedroom. The dejected and defeated look on his face told him that the evening hadn't gone well as he stared at the Muggle chess board she had set up on the coffee table.  

 

Granger had owled him the other day, asking to get together this evening to discuss something. Pansy knew that Ron had been dreading it badly, so she told him her Floo address if he needed to talk afterwards, or at least wanted some peace and quiet from the fall out. She half-way hoped that either one or both of them had ended the relationship, because it was hard for Pansy to see him so miserable and unhappy. And if anyone deserved a bit of happiness, Pansy thought it was him.

 

“Sorry, I didn't mean to snap. Would you like something to drink?” she asked, not moving from her seat on the floor surrounded by books, papers, and Merlin knows what else. Pansy wanted to make sure that he had all the physical space he needed after having a bad evening. She watched him move the bishop closest to him, trying to suppress the smile that she wanted to let stretch across her face, thinking that she might actually have some competition, since Draco's chess playing skills were atrocious at best.

 

“Don't worry about it,” he said with a sigh, kicking off his boots and stretching across the couch. He now had an easy view of her from the couch.  “Thanks for letting me hide out here.”

 

“No problem. People feeling talkative tonight?” Pansy replied, feeling the hairs on her arms go up when she admitted to herself that he looked like he belonged there and that she actually liked such a domestic scene.

 

“I have no idea. I didn't feel like going anywhere else but here. Hermione and I just spent the last hour having a fairly public fight at the Leaky Cauldron. We evidently put on quite the show, because someone actually had the audacity to tell us it reminded them of being back at Hogwarts,” Ron huffed and fell silent.

 

“Are you sure you don't want a drink?” she asked with a soft smile on her face. “The cabinet underneath the window is fully stocked.”

 

“I'm sure.” After a few moments, he continued, “I know you are going to ask. But I don't want to talk about it. At least not now. I just don't feel like rehashing the hour I just wasted.”

 

“That bad?”

 

“It's only that bad because Merlin knows I've only had the same argument with her a couple dozen times in the last year.”

 

“Understood. It gets old doesn't it?”

 

“What gets old?”

 

“Rehashing arguments.”

 

“Not so much old as feels like a bloody bad dream that you can't wake up from.”

 

“I'm sorry.”

 

Pansy watched as a pensive look came over him and he looked around her bedroom. She had a good idea of what he was going to say but she figured she'd wait for him.

 

“Can I ask you something?”

 

“Sure,” she replied.

 

“How come the Floo Network connects to your bedroom?”

 

Pansy bit her lip and blurted out a half-truth in a teasing manner, hoping to misdirect Ron without actually lying to him. “Draco and I need to avoid each other a significant amount of the time to prevent unnecessary bloodshed.”

 

“Doesn't he need the Network too?”

 

“Surprisingly, no. He hates to Floo. Thinks it's beneath him somehow,” she said, standing up, avoiding the part where it was for her protection and how if Draco or her father found out she revealed her Floo address to anyone, her blood would be spilt without a second thought. “Anyway, he moved in after the network was set up and I've never gotten around to moving it.”

 

Tired of being so far from him, she took a chance and stood up, moving to join him on the couch. She wasn't used to much space between them and even the few feet in her bedroom had finally proved to be too much. Before she sat down, she countered his move on the chess board, earning a smile from him.  Pansy pulled his outstretched legs up and crawled onto the couch with her legs under her and his resting on hers.

 

“What's it like living with the Ferret?”

 

“I could ask you the same about Potter.”

 

“But I never dated Harry.”

 

“I don't understand,” she replied, looking at him puzzled.

 

“It doesn't bother you to be living with someone you used to date?”

 

She shook her head. “No. I think the girl Draco's been seeing minded it at first but it doesn't seem to bother her anymore.”

 

“You know, there is a lot less Slytherin green in this room than I thought there would be.”

 

“Have I mentioned I absolutely hate the colour of Slytherin green?” Pansy chuckled, running her hand absentmindedly up and down Ron's legs.

 

His loud laugh filled the room, before he choked out, “You are kidding me!”

 

“Cross my heart,” she giggled. “The only place you will find that colour in this flat is in Draco's room. Most of the house is like this room, lots of soft blues, greens, purples, browns and whites.”

 

“No silver?”

 

“Again, only in Draco's room.”

 

“Wow.”

 

“So you are telling me your room is nothing but red and gold?”

 

“Yep, and with lots of Chudley Canon orange.”

 

Pansy shivered thinking of all those colours. “Oh Gods, remind me never to get decorating advice from you.”

 

“Why would you even think that?” he teased. “I am a guy.”

 

“Good point. Chalk it up to me losing my mind.”

 

“You mean you had one to begin with?”

 

Pansy slapped his legs hard. “Don't be an arse! Or I won't hide you in the future.”

 

She watched Ron's face grow dark as he looked away from her, and quickly she apologized, “I'm sorry...”

 

“Leave it,” he quickly interrupted.

 

Pansy nodded her head and let him have his silence. Leaning her head against the couch, she sat and waited. Her eyes followed every track that her hands made running up and down his legs, her mind racing with all the possibilities of what he and Hermione had fought about this evening. It didn't even begin to fill the space that seemed to envelope the room, but at least it filled her mind adequately enough to help her remain silent for him.

 

“How do you do that?” he suddenly asked, his blue eyes now focused on her.

 

Without moving, she turned her eyes and felt herself get swallowed in his gaze. “Do what?”

 

“If I ask you to leave the topic alone or drop it, you do. How do you do that?”

 

“Well, I try to respect you and only talk about things if and when you want to.”

 

“Why? How come you are being a better mate to me than my best mate of ten years?”

 

“You've just learned the best part about having a mate in Slytherin,” she replied, her voice soft and distant, “Remember us Slytherins believe in protecting ourselves above everyone and anything else. It makes it quite easy to let people stew in their own problems until they want a friend to listen to them.”

 

“You are full of surprises, you know that. It's sometimes like you are a totally different person than the Parkinson I went to school with. Back then you seemed like such a busy-body.”

 

“In many ways I am a different person than what you remember from school,” she admitted, turning her face away from his, staring at the open doorway. “The war changed a lot of things for people on both sides.”

 

“What changed for you?”

 

“Certain expectations were gone,” she admitted. “Granted, they were replaced by other expectations, but at least now I can be the person I am instead of the person everyone wanted me to be.  Anything change for you?”

 

“My family,” Ron's voice broke. “It's been four years and I still expect Fred to walk through the door with George every time I see him. But he never does. There is always something missing from every holiday and meal at the Burrow. We all try to fill that space but it never seems to work.”

 

Her own mind began wandering to the source of many of her own tears and pain. Her eyes started to burn again as she whispered, “The worst part about losing someone you love like that is that it will never seem to get any better. No matter what anyone will tell you. The holidays come and go. The years pass. And your memories start to fade, making the whole situation worse rather than better, because you find yourself dealing with guilt as well as pain. Time doesn't heal the pain; it just dulls it to something you can live with.”

 

“Pansy...?” he asked, his own pain evident in his voice as it trailed off. She watched his hand grab hers, holding it still.

 

“This isn't public information, so I would appreciate it if you didn't mention it to anyone.”  Looking at their hands, she sighed and took a deep breath. Pansy knew that in a moment tears were going to fall, and she wasn't sure that she could control them this time. “My mum. She was murdered. I saw the whole thing.”

 

“But I thought…what about your mother?”

 

Pansy sighed before continuing, “My mother? Stepmother, if you want to get technical. I don’t at least not anymore.”

 

“So when did it happen?”

 

“A long time ago.”

 

“How long ago?”

 

“I was four.”

 

An oppressive silence filled the room before Ron gently asked, “Did they catch the person

who did it?” 

 

A tear slid down her face as she realized that this was the first time someone had genuinely offered her comfort like this. Everyone had pushed her away when it first happened and by the time they realized that she was still there, she just pushed them back until they stopped trying to offer false words of comfort. They instead decided to compensate by attempting to control her life, to make her into her mum.

 

“It wasn't a priority...” she was unable to get out anything else, as her sobs started to rack her body. Pansy felt Ron pull her down to lay beside him. She buried her face into this body and continued to cry as his hands rubbed her back.

 

“Maybe you're right,” she tried to joke when her tears finally slowed, wiping at her face with the back of hand. “Maybe I am a sentimental girl after all.”

 

“It's nice to know the Slytherin ice princess is human like the rest of us,” Ron whispered, reaching a hand out to wipe away a late tear that escaped before he tucked her hair behind her ear.

 

“So you're a sentimental girl too?” she asked, trying to lighten the mood.

 

“Doubt it. Hermione has told me on more than one occasion that I have the emotional range of a teaspoon. And somehow I think you need a little more than that to be classified as a sentimental girl,” he replied with a forced laugh.

 

“That's awful,” Pansy told him, and her hand began draw idle patterns on his stomach as she fought back an unexpected yawn from her emotional outburst. “If anyone has that, it's me. I basically do vindictive and mean, and that's about it.”

 

“Liar,” he laughed, pulling her tighter into him. “I've seen you cry, laugh, and go positively mental on top of being vindictive and mean. So I'm thinking maybe a tablespoon.”

 

“Damn, my reputation is slipping,” she grinned, fighting back another yawn. “I need to make a note to return to my old self on Monday.”

 

“I'll consider myself warned.”

 

“Good, now I won't have to apologize for any outrageous behavior on my part.”

 

She felt Ron's laugh rumbled through his chest. “Wasn't really expecting you too, Parkinson. Isn't it beneath you to apologize to a blood-traitor anyway?”

 

Pansy sat up abruptly and thumped his chest with her hand. “Don't you dare call yourself that! You are not a blood-traitor. Just because the Mal--”

 

“Okay. Okay.” Ron replied, cutting her off, his eyes wide.

 

“I hate the word,” Pansy replied softly. She resisted his attempts to pull her back in his embrace. “Please don't.”

 

“Pansy,” Ron softly said, sitting up. “I meant it as joke. Much like I teased you about not having a house-elf. I won't do it again if it bothers you so much.”

 

“Promise?”

 

“Promise.”

 

Pansy let Ron pull her back down on the couch this time. She snuggled back into his side but didn't say anything. Neither did he. They both lay there in the comfortable silence until sleep overcame them both.

 

The sun streaming through the windows woke Pansy. She was so warm and comfortable where she laid that she had no desire to actually move. Gradually, she opened her eyes.

 

The first thing she saw was her hand enveloped in a much larger hand lying across the chest she was snuggled up against. By the amount of freckles she could see in her groggy state, she knew it was Ron. She smiled at the thought that he had decided to stay after she fell asleep. Pansy knew she should have minded that he stayed, but she didn't. It was nice to wake up next to someone again, even if it was only a friend.  

 

 A stack of books lying on the coffee table that hadn't been there last night caught her attention and jolted her completely awake. It never crossed her mind to seal her room last night after Ron arrived since Draco said he was staying with Zabini.

 

Her curiosity about the books soon overtook any other thought she had in her mind. Though her desire was to stay curled up on the couch and go back to sleep, she carefully untangled herself from Ron, trying not to wake him up, and climbed over him to sit on the floor. She grabbed the envelope that was on top.

 

Opening it up, she saw Draco's eloquent script. _Princess – I thought these might help with whatever you are working on. Remember your promise above all else. Ferret_.

 

She let out a small huff. With a snap of her wrist, the note incinerated in her hand.

 

Pansy didn't get much time to think before she heard Ron mutter, “Woman, some of us like to sleep in the morning and not wake up to the smell of fire.”

 

“I'm surprised to hear that from the person who is in business with George Weasley,” she whispered before placing a kiss on his forehead as she stood up.

 

“Just come back to bed.”  
  


“I would,” she whispered, “but you are on the couch.”

 

“Details woman. Details,” he told her grabbing her arm and pulling her down towards him.

 

With a smile on her lips she crawled back down with him on the couch. Well, more so onto him. Her leg stretched across him, her head on his chest, while he wrapped his one arm around her to hold her in place and grabbed her hand with the other. It didn't take long before sleep over took her again. Pansy regretfully acknowledged that she could get used to this very quickly. 


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 – Someone Found Out

 

Her day had gone poorly between her boss being unreasonable in his deadlines and her mother deciding that a Valentine's party would be a good idea but now in the confines of the shop, her day could only get better. With a smile on her face, Pansy bounded into Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes at eight on the dot. Shaking off the snowflakes that had landed on her from the mad dash from the Leaky Cauldron to here, she called out to Ron, “It's just me. Want me to lock up?”

 

“Yep. Thanks,” he yelled from the back. “I'll be out in a second.”

 

“Great,” Pansy said to the empty store, putting a new bottle of fire-whisky on the counter with the food she brought from the Leaky Cauldron.  Locking the door and pulling the blinds down, she called back out, “I pilfered a different bottle from my father's liquor cabinet this time. I would really appreciate it if I didn't hear any comments from the peanut gallery regarding this one. Oh, and Hannah is experimenting with desserts. She put two pieces of her new pumpkin cake in with the sandwiches tonight. No charge, but she wants to know what we think of them...Can you grab the ledger while you are back there?”

 

“Got it. Anything else Madame?” 

 

She heard him as she cleared the receipts and cash from the register and giggled at the sound of his sarcasm. “No, just get your arse out here, I'm hungry.”

 

“Patience woman. Last time I checked it was a virtue. So what did you steal this time?” She turned to see Ron emerge from the back with his hands full of merchandise, the ledger and two glasses. Smiling back at him with an oh-so-innocent look, she answered, “Just another bottle of fire-whisky.”

 

“It's never just a bottle with you,” he teased, letting her take the ledger and glasses. “One of these days I'm expecting a bottle of vintage Wilkinson's Special Reserve to show up.”

 

“Dammit,” she exclaimed, snapping her fingers, “There goes your birthday surprise. Nah, it's just...”

 

But he cut her off as he stared at the label. “It's just nothing. Don't you think your father would miss this?”

 

“Not at all,” Pansy took the bottle back from him and opened it up. “He was shit-faced the other evening with some investors when I snuck into the house. I promise you that he will just think he finished it with them when he goes to look for it.”

 

“If you say so,” Ron said, watching her pour the drinks.

 

“Have a little faith, Ron. I've been pilfering bottles from him since I was thirteen. How else do you think I bribed Draco when we were in school?”  She grinned, handing him his glass. “So what do we toast to tonight? The investors?”

 

“To the investors.” They intoned, clinking their glasses.

 

Pansy watched him take a drink, and had to giggle as he ogled the glass, teasing, “It's only a glass of fire-whisky Ron.”

 

“But it's so fucking good,” Ron moaned.

 

“Its whiskey Ron,” she giggled again before climbing up onto the counter to start working on the books. “Not your bit of arse.”

 

Her hand flew over her mouth.

 

She knew she shouldn't have said that last part the instant it came out of her mouth. She carefully looked at him and watched his entire demeanor grow dark. She watched him set the glass down and exit the floor without a word.

 

It hadn't taken her long to figure out what would set him off. Granted, it wasn't hard to set him off anymore. Any reference to Granger, no matter how vague or unintentional, these days set him off faster than a Whizbang. At first she tried apologizing, but she soon figured it out it wasn't worth it. Apologizing just seemed to increase his frustration, as he always cut her off the minute she started.

 

Not that long ago, Pansy had made some vague comment about her and he had stalked off into the storeroom to calm down. Finding herself bored when he still hadn't returned after ten minutes, she started working on the books for him in an attempt to be helpful. It didn't take long for them to realize that it worked well for them. He got the closing part of the store done faster and she had something to do. And frankly, she was better at it then either George or Ron.

 

Sighing, she settled into to working on the books. She was almost half-way through reconciling today's receipts when a booming voice startled her.

 

“What are you doing here? Where's Ron?”

 

She jumped off the counter and spun to find herself face to face with a red-faced and very angry looking George Weasley. The amount of steam that seemed to be coming out of his ears was more than slightly unnerving. At that moment, Pansy knew there was a reason she never could have been a Gryffindor, no matter what the Sorting Hat kept trying to tell her.

 

“In the storeroom,” Pansy said as calmly as possible, trying to hide her thumping heart while being unnerved by the narrowing of George's eyes as he looked her up and down. She tried to banish the thought of Lucius doing the same thing to her when she was ten, like she was some animal he wanted to purchase.

 

“And what are you doing here?” his voice growled.

 

“Helping Ron with the books,” she said, stepping towards the front of the store and out of the way so George could see what she had been working on.

 

Suddenly, she saw a light bulb go off in his head as his face turned violently from red to green to pale, his voice cracking as he said, “You've been here every evening he's closed since Boxing Day.”

 

Carefully, she replied, “Yes.”

 

It was close enough. She was still not entirely sure where this was going or how he knew she'd been here every night he closed. She wished Ron would just get himself together and get his arse out to the front of the store to save her from George. Some knight in shining armor he was. She wondered if she could strip him of his heraldry even if he wasn't the oldest son.

 

“And not Hermione.”

 

Now the light bulb went off for her. “Right,” she answered, grabbing her drink, “Would you like a drink?”

 

“Don't mind if I do,” George took the glass, drinking its entire contents in one take. “Hey, that's good stuff.”

 

“Would you like another glass?”  Pansy sassed, feeling some of her confidence return albeit a little late in her opinion, “So you can actually taste what a 300 galleon bottle of fire-whisky tastes like?”

 

“What?” George whispered, dropping the glass he had in his hands, staring at her and not the broken glass at his feet.

 

Pulling her wand from her jeans, Pansy sighed. “Are all you Weasleys the same when it comes to expensive liquor?” Flicking her wand, the glass repaired itself and flew into her hand. She grabbed the bottle and poured another glass as she muttered, “To think what I could've bribed you all with while at Hogwarts.

 

“Would you like to taste it this time?” Pansy asked a still befuddled George, extending the drink to him. With no response from George, she took a drink herself because Merlin knew she needed it at the moment. “Fine then. More for me,” she said, slamming the entire contents of the glass back. She knew she had just chided George for doing the same thing, but it wasn't like she hadn't had this fire-whisky before and there wasn't a bottle of it in her own bar at home.

 

Pansy stood there and waited for George to say something to her. When he didn't, she poured herself another glass and reclaimed her seat on the counter and started back to work.

 

“What about Hermione?” George finally spoke.

 

“What about her?” she asked, not looking up from the books.

 

“You know he has a girlfriend.”

 

“I know,” she sighed, thinking that the girlfriend title was a bit of a stretch and that it was a little sad that Ron's family had really stopped paying attention to what was going on in his life. She had thought from time to time that Ron was exaggerating about his family's blindness regarding the state of his relationship with Granger, but if the one person he saw more than anyone didn't see it, then who in his family would?

 

“And I have a question for you, George. Have you talked to him about her lately? I mean really talked and not teased him about when he's going to marry her?”

 

“What else is there to talk about when it comes to those two? They've basically been together since they were kids,” he demanded, pouring himself a glass of fire-whisky “Though knowing now that you've been the one hanging around in the evenings makes me want to throttle him.”

 

“And why is that?”

 

“If Hermione knew, she would walk away from him for good for spending time with you instead of her, his _girlfriend_. Whether he realizes it or not, he would come to regret it. She's good for him.”

 

“I think you need to talk to him and listen to what he is actually saying about his relationship with Granger instead of wasting your time and breathe impugning my character,” Pansy firmly said. “Oh, and if you aren't wanting, willing or able to do that, then please pull your head out of your arse and figure out when was the last time you actually saw them together.”

 

Surprised that he didn't have a comeback, she watched him mentally process what she had just said. Pansy poured herself another glass as she waited for him to put two and two together.

 

Sighing when she finally saw the light bulb go off again, Pansy turned back to the books, before informing George, “Ron has seen her _once_ since Christmas. And all they did was fight at the Leaky Cauldron over something they keep fighting about. Outside of that, you need to ask him what's going on. I won't be your _Daily Prophet_.”

 

“So what are you two?” George asked, looking her up and down.

 

“Friends.”

 

“Bull.”

 

“Well, it's the truth.”

 

“I don't believe you.”

 

“I don't care what you believe,” she replied truthfully, unable to look at him as she spoke.

 

“Well, you should.”

 

“Why? Your opinion doesn't matter to me,” she responded with a hollow laugh and a silent wish that what she was about to say wouldn't get back to her father in some shape or form.  “Your brother has been nothing but nice to me when I hadn't done anything in the past to deserve it from him at a time in my life when I needed a true friend. As a result, I would do anything for him.”

 

“Excuse me?” George sounded a bit incredulous.

 

“What?” Pansy sighed, more than just a little bit annoyed with this conversation and George at the moment.

 

“Does Ron know this?”

 

“Do I know what?” Ron asked, wandering back into the store front. Pansy noticed that his temper was starting to seethe. The tips of his ears were turning red, his eyes narrowing as he focused on George.

 

_Fuck,_ Pansy muttered to herself, jumping down from the counter and positioning herself between the two brothers, albeit on the side of them. She wasn't stupid.

 

Thinking quick after noticing George was a bit dumbfounded, Pansy improvised, “Did you know that you all doubled your sales in your adult line already this week and it's still several days before Valentine's Day?”

 

“Nice try, but don't change the subject, Pansy,” Ron growled, his attention still focused on George. “What do I know? Or don't know.”

 

Well, if she was going to be sent down the river by George, she may as well jump in it before he pushed. Sighing, Pansy replied, “George here is suspicious about me hanging around here without a chaperone, given that you have a girlfriend. Evidently you hadn't told him that I've been helping you close and do the books for the past few weeks.”

 

She really expected Ron to yell. She expected him to cuss. She expected him to turn around and go back to the store room to calm down. Who was she kidding? She was hoping and wanting him to do that. She figuring she could handle and get rid of George before attempting to calm down a 6'7” Ron when she was maybe 5'`9” in heels.

 

However, it felt like everything turned into slow motion as she watched Ron's fist connect with George's face, hard, causing George to stumble backwards and fall down against a display of fake wands, sending them in a half-dozen directions.

 

“Ron!” she yelled, putting herself squarely between the two brothers, facing Ron. She grabbed both of his arms before he could hit his brother again. Pansy struggled to dig her feet into the wooden floor of the shop to stop him from advancing on George any farther, but it was like fighting a raging bull. “Stop! Ron! Stop! Please stop it! He has every right to be suspicious of me.”

 

Ron abruptly stopped in his tracks to stare at her. “What did you say?”

 

“He has every right to be suspicious of me. He's your brother. He's only looking out for you. It's not like I did a lot to be proud of when we were in school together. And that's who he remembers,” she pleaded. “That's who he knows.”

 

Ron's eyes narrowed as he looked her over, and she quickly continued, “You were suspicious of me at first, remember? Give him the same courtesy to have the same doubts.”

 

“And why should I do that?”

 

She had absolutely no fucking idea.

 

Struggling to figure out what her own point was, George's voice interrupted both her thoughts and Ron's stare, though she didn't dare remove her tight grip on Ron's arms or relax her body for a second, forcing George to talk to Ron over her shoulder. “Look, I came down tonight to talk to Hermione. I wasn't expecting the Slytherin ice princess here.”

 

“And?” Ron growled at his brother, his eyes never leaving Pansy's face, who was silently pleading with him, mouthing 'Listen to him, please.'

 

“I need to apologize.”

 

“What?” Ron's eyes jerked towards the direction of his brother, and Pansy tightened the grip on his arms and prepared herself mentally in case she needed to prevent Ron from advancing on George again.

 

“About Hermione,” George replied. “I'm sorry I hadn't noticed. Or listened to what you were saying.”

 

Hearing defeated sighs from both brothers, Pansy loosed her grip on Ron's arms, figuring that the threat risk of him hitting his brother again was low. She still stayed between the two – just in case.

 

“Ron, why didn't you say something?” George asked.

 

“You all have been so focused on taking the piss out of me that I gave up trying to say anything,” Ron mumbled, looking down at his feet. Pansy finally let go of his arms and rested a hand on his chest. “It's not like you were listening anyway.”

 

“It's going to be okay,” she whispered, hoping it would bring him some comfort before stepping from between Ron and his brother. “I promise.”

 

“Would you like to talk about it now?” George asked. Thinking that this was a good thing, Pansy grabbed the two glasses and poured each a drink and handed one to each brother.

 

“I'm going to go ahead and head home. I'll try to swing by a little early tomorrow and finish the books, so don't worry about it,” she said, quickly grabbing her cloak and bag before Ron could say anything that would change her mind. She knew that he needed to talk to his brother about everything, more than he probably realized.

 

When she turned back around to say good bye, the words froze on her lips as soon as she met Ron's eyes. There was something in the way that he was looking at her; begging her not to leave. She didn't want to leave but she knew that Ron had had enough drama for the evening, and frankly, so had Pansy.

 

“You don't have to go,” he said quietly, his hand reaching out to her arm.

 

“I know,” she said with a gentle smile as she placed a quick, chaste kiss on his cheek. “Tell me when you're ready to talk to me. I'll see you later. Bye, George.”

 

By the time she arrived at her front door, she was mentally and physically drained. She knew she could have used the Floo at the store or even the one at the Leaky Cauldron, but once she had stepped outside of the store, the cool late winter wind felt good against her heated face.  After her interesting evening, she figured a long walk home would do her good, in order for her to collect her thoughts about what had happened this evening. Especially with the way George was staring at her and Ron as she told him good bye. She wasn't sure if incredulous was the right adjective for the look on his face as she had watched him look from one of them to the other.

 

She dragged her body through her front door. Opening up the wardrobe in the entryway, she was relieved to not see Draco's cloak there. Hopefully this meant that his date with Astoria was going well tonight, leaving her to the peace and quiet she desperately needed after the day she had had.

 

After putting away her cloak and her bag, she conceded that there was no way she was actually going to do anything more tonight than make a cup of cocoa and drag her tired arse up three flights of stairs to collapse on her bed with her new red 1000 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets she had bought the previous weekend on a whim.

 

While she was stirring the cocoa, she started the trek up to her bedroom. The sound of footsteps on her staircase made her jump and she dropped her mug, sending porcelain and cocoa over her teak floors. Grabbing her wand from the pocket in her jeans, she willed herself to stay calm and backed herself against the wall in a darkened corner, ready to defend or to attack.

 

“Ron!” she yelled in surprise, coming out of the shadows and finding herself on the end of his wand. “What the hell are you doing here?”

 

“You left the shop over an hour ago! Where have you been?” The panic in his eyes was more obvious than the panic in his voice as he grabbed her and pulled her into his body, wrapping his arms around her.

 

Pushing herself back from him, Pansy replied, “I walked home. How long have you been here?”

 

“Doesn't matter. I'd already checked the Leaky Cauldron and the Ministry. I was about ready to see if I could find you on foot.”

 

“Why? What about closing the store?” Pansy really wasn't sure why he was looking for her.

 

“Why what? Why was I looking for you?” Ron's voice took on an aggravated tone that made Pansy take a step back. At the very moment, she found herself impressed with Granger's fortitude, knowing that she faced his temper on a daily basis when he was growing up.

 

“Yes, why? I told you I was heading home.”

 

“Why didn't you Apparate or use the Floo?”

 

“I typically don't do either. The house is in Muggle London, so I usually just enter Muggle London from the Leaky Cauldron, walk a couple of blocks and catch a cab. But it felt so good walking tonight, that I just walked the entire way to gather my thoughts and unwind from today.”

 

Pansy searched his face for some response, but he had fallen silent as he stared at her. After what seemed like hours but was probably nothing more than a few minutes, if that, he took a seat on the stairs and started to study his hands as he fiddled the two of them together.

 

“Ron,” she whispered, taking a seat next to him, resting her head on his shoulder, “I'm sorry that I worried you. I'm not used to having someone in my life day in and day out who would notice the mundane details.”

 

“You mean Malfoy...?”

 

“Draco? No,” she said, shaking her head with a small laugh. “Well...maybe...there are times I know he is more observant than what he lets on. But we have a system worked out. I know when he's in trouble and he knows...”

 

And there was pop in front of them.

 

“When I am in trouble. Except he's a bit slow tonight, so I'm figuring the date with Astoria was going well before you frightened me.”

 

“Bloody hell, Princess!” Draco shouted when he saw her still in one piece and sitting on the stairs with Ron, who was shocked to see Draco suddenly appear in front of him.

 

“Go back to Astoria,” she waved at him, trying not to laugh at the fact his tie was missing, his shirt untucked and unbuttoned and the fact he was barefoot, while trying to ignore his slip up. “False alarm. Promise her whatever you need to to get her to forgive you and I'll cover the bill.”

 

“You better,” he snapped back, and Disapparated again before another word could be said by anyone.

 

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Ron asked, wrapping his arm around Pansy's shoulder.

 

“Do what?”

 

“Foot the bill for Draco?”  
  


“Trust me on this. He wouldn't have left so easily if I hadn't. I'm not in the mood to listen to him shouting. I'm too tired for that. Walking all the way home was a mistake.”

 

“Thank you for admitting it was a mistake,” Ron snapped at her.

 

Pansy lifted her head up. Using her hand to turn his head to face her so he could see what she was about to say, she coolly replied, “I will admit when I am in the wrong.”

 

“Sorry,” Ron replied, “I'm not use to someone acquiescing so easily. I'll chip in for whatever Malfoy is buying his girl.”

 

“Don't worry about it. I work because I want to. How about you buy dinner for the next  week?”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Positive,” Pansy said emphatically, her head returning to his shoulder. “You know, I didn't expect to see you tonight. I figured you'd get pissed with George and talk to him about your relationship.”

 

“Well, we did have a few drinks as we talked, and in the end there wasn't much to say. He agreed to finish closing tonight and I just wanted to thank you. So here I am.”

 

“Oh,” she whispered. “You're welcome, by the way. Though I'm not sure what I did.”

 

“Well, you got him to see the light of day about my so-called-relationship with Hermione. By the way, I need to know how you did that, so I can use the strategy with my bloody mate and the rest of my family. Oh, and thanks for keeping me from beating the shit out of him.”

 

“About that,” she said, “I'd rather not do that again. Draco's kind of easy to refrain. He looks bigger than he is but frankly he's kind of a pussy. You, on the other hand, it's kind of like refraining an injured bull. I'd really like to _not_ experience that _ever_ again.”

 

“I'll keep that in mind,” he laughed, placing a kiss on her forehead.

 

“One more thing,” she said with a yawn, “Do you mind if I'm a rude hostess and go to bed? I'm beat.”

 

“Nah. I'm kind of beat too,” he said, standing up. Pansy started to stand but suddenly found herself being carried in Ron's arms. “Let's get you to bed.”

 

“You know, I can walk.”

 

“I know, and you can get used to someone trying to take care of you when they can,” he retorted, as if it had been on his tongue for some time. “As well as paying attention to mundane details.”

 

“You know you're asking for a miracle?” she softly responded, finally letting her body relax into the arms that were supporting it.

 

“Correction,” he whispered, “I'm expecting one.”

 


	8. Chapter 7

  
Author's notes: Special thanks to tjwritter who held my hand in tightening up this chapter and for all her hard work because I’ve been lax in thanking my wonderful beta. Off to kick myself now for doing that. Seraph.  


* * *

Chapter  7– And Then There Were...

 

  


 

“Am I late?” Pansy asked breathlessly. Ron was seated on the counter already, sipping a glass of fire-whisky, which surprised her. She didn't think that she was that late. He always waited for her to show up before pouring himself a glass.

 

She had gotten held up at her lab with Potter, having spent the last two hours trying to convince him she couldn't move any faster, especially if he didn't want Percy Weasley to know why she was really spending all those extra hours in the lab. She even informed him, in not so pleasant terms, that she was working on this at home at all hours, too; she left out the part where she was slowly driving Draco and Ron crazy with all the extra work. In the end, she demanded that he give her some breathing space, reminding him that he would be the first person to know if she came up with something. The shouting match they had descended into only came to a halt when her boss came in looking for Potter about some raid, and tossed more potions’ work on her desk from the Aurors. She had never been so thankful to see Percy Weasley in her entire life.  

 

Not only was she still flustered from arguing with that stubborn fool, but she'd had to run all the way down Diagon Alley to get to the shop by the time it closed. Luckily, Hannah had taken to waiting just outside the Leaky Cauldron with her now daily order of two sandwiches.

 

“No,” Ron started with an angry look on his face as he poured himself another glass. “Just waiting for you actually.”

 

Now she was confused, asking, “Is everything okay?”

 

“Funny thing happened in the store today.”

 

“Ok,” she replied carefully, not sure exactly what was going on at the moment and why Ron appeared so angry. The only thing she could come up with was Hermione had been in the store today and it hadn’t gone well.

 

“Remember how I told you that George decided to get Angelina tickets to the Harpies game   on Valentine's Day, but that he couldn't get any?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Imagine my surprise when Angelina came running into the store this afternoon with tickets for that exact game. Not only that, but they were from George according to her, supposedly an early Valentine's present.”

 

Pansy forced a smile to appear on her face as she set the food on the counter by Ron, knowing that her impulsive generosity to George had been discovered. She just didn’t understand why Ron was so angry about the tickets. They were only tickets.

 

“I don’t understand what the problem is,” she asked in her best unaffected voice, trying to act as innocent as possible; carefully toeing the line between being truthful and outright lying. “Sounds like he found a way to get them.”

 

“Oh, I'm getting to that,” Ron continued, the look on his face becoming increasingly angry as he stared straight ahead, not looking in her direction; she could have sworn smoke was starting to pour from his ears. She was starting to regret her reckless decision to help George out for reasons she didn’t exactly know or understand. Draco had been floored when she asked him to deliver the tickets to George but hadn’t said a word, he just looked at her flabbergasted. “Ginny happened to be in the store at the same time and saw the tickets. Do you know what she asked her?”

 

“No,” she lied, she had a very good idea of what Ginny had asked as she moved back towards the door where she usually kept her bag and cloak.

 

“Ginny asked her how she got the owner's private box,” Pansy watched as Ron refilled his glass again after spitting out those words. “Interesting, isn't it? I tell you that George can't get tickets to a particular Harpies' game, and not two days later he doesn't just have tickets, he's got tickets for the owner's bloody private box; the one that supposedly goes to Pendragon executives. So how did George get those particular tickets?”

 

Any confidence that Pansy had left, disappeared at that very moment as she dropped her head down. She couldn't bring herself to look at him – or even in his general direction – anymore. She started to fiddle with her hands as she counted the seconds until Ron blew up. Frankly, she was surprised she had gotten to forty-five by the time he spoke again.

 

“Parkinson I am asking you, how the bloody hell did George come by those tickets?” Ron firmly asked, leaving no room for her to wiggle her way out; at least none she could immediately put her finger on.

 

“I gave them to him,” she quietly admitted, her eyes utterly focused on the floorboards under her feet. Pansy was not entirely sure what she had done that was so wrong but it was clear that her actions were wrong in _his_ eyes, and that hurt more than she ever thought it would or could. She just didn’t understand why he was so upset over a pair of Quidditch tickets.

 

“Why?” She could still hear the anger in his voice.

 

“I don't know,” Pansy pleaded, shrugging her shoulders. Her head still down, she quickly explained, “I had them and I wasn't going to use them. When you said he wanted to take Angelina to that game, I figured that they would enjoy them and they wouldn't go to waste. Draco brought them over for me.”

 

“Why didn't you just tell me that?”

 

“I don't know,” she whispered.  “I didn't think it mattered really...”

 

The hollow laugh he gave cut Pansy off and she shuddered in response to it.

 

He snapped, “'You didn't think' about sums it up. What are you playing at Parkinson? What does buttering up to me and now George get you?”

 

“I'm not playing at anything,” she implored, finally getting the courage to look at him. She wished that she hadn't. She didn't like the look on his face, causing her to drop her head back down. “They were just a gift.”

 

“Chocolate Frogs are a gift. A Quidditch kit is a gift. Access to the owner’s box of a Quidditch match is a bribe,” he growled.

 

“But it wasn’t,” she pleaded. “They were just a gift.”

 

Unfortunately, Ron seemed to be on a roll as he continued, “You know, beyond my better judgment I gave you the benefit of the doubt in spite of what happened at school. And you know what else, I thought you had changed, and I was glad that I gave you the chance. Now I'm back to wondering what's in it for you? Huh Parkinson? What does being friends with me do for you?”

 

“Nothing,” she replied, tears starting to form in her eyes, knowing that nothing good could come for her and Draco if her evenings in the shop were ever discovered.

 

“Bullshite.”

 

“But it doesn’t,” she implored, wishing that he would just let the subject die. “Being friends with you does nothing for me,” her voice failed as she continued, “and Draco.”

 

“Then why do I get the sneaky suspicion now that you are buying me off?”

 

“I’m not though.”

 

“So why the expensive firewhisky?”

 

“I’ll stop if you want me too.”

 

“That’s not an answer to the question. Why the expensive firewhisky?”

 

“Because it’s what I drink.”

 

When he didn’t respond, she hoped that this was the end of the conversation. She waited with baited breath for him to vocalize his willingness to let this go.

 

Pansy had started to relax when she heard him whisper, “So why does my gut keep telling me that you are trying to use me and now George to make people forget what you were and what you did during the war? I mean really, the Slytherin ice princess suddenly becomes friends with someone like me, especially since you appear to have more money than the bloody Queen.” 

 

Her head snapped up and she stared at him, dumbfounded. She was not entirely sure if she'd heard him correctly, and she hoped to Merlin that she hadn't.

 

“Excuse me?” Her voice cracked as she struggled to even speak the words as her heart lodged in her throat.

 

“I mean we all know what you were during the war. And no one who was there that night could forget what you did...”

 

“But I wasn't anything,” she cried out cutting him off, her voice full of hurt and anguish. “My family wasn't anything.”

 

“Just like Draco Malfoy wasn't anything,” he struck back with. “He wears the bloody mark!”

 

“Do _not_ judge him. You have no fucking idea what the two of us went through.” 

 

He started to say something, jumping off the counter to face her and move closer, but her heart had had enough.

 

She quickly continued, “You have no idea what we had to do to survive. Until you walk a mile in our shoes, do _not_ stand there and judge us – especially him.”

 

“Don’t you dare play ‘poor, pitiful me’ with me,” Ron’s voice rose. “Your family is whole. My family didn't walk away whole that night at Hogwarts. And you tried to add to that by offering my best mate to Voldemort while I had to save _your_ best mate's life, not once, but _twice_.”

 

“I refuse to continue this conversation with you so go bugger off,” Pansy spat, tears rolling down her face as she threw her cloak on as fast as possible before exiting the store with the parting shot, “I should have listened to Draco when he told me to stay away from you. That nothing good could come of this.”

 

She heard him yelling her name as she ran down Diagon Alley but she didn't care. She just wanted to get away from him as quickly as possible.  

 

Unfortunately, four days later, in spite of the best intentions, Pansy found that her mind had a completely different idea. She found herself unable to stop thinking about him; she was so miserable without his presence. It was as if he had found and filled a hole that she didn’t know even existed until now.

 

 

It didn't help what little bit of sanity she was desperately clinging to that the two constants in her life had either voluntarily removed themselves from being within ten feet of her or had been forcibly taken away.

 

First, Draco had grown tired of her most recent funk within a day and had taken to staying with Zabini full time. Actually, the moment he heard what happened, he ordered her to stay in London before moving out of the flat.

 

. His last words– that he was no longer enough for her – brought tears to her eyes before she slammed the door after he left.

 

Her lab, on the other hand, had been sealed off due to a water leak on her level at the Ministry, causing her to be unable to go into work because her job was too highly classified to be conducted in a public lab. This left her in her deathly quiet flat with nowhere to go and nothing to do but tilt at windmills with Potter's project.

 

The only bright thing to have occurred for Pansy in these four long, tedious days was that Draco had somehow managed to convince her mother that Pansy attending the last minute Valentine's dinner party would not be in anyone's best interest – especially her mother's crystal and china. Instead, Pansy was allowed to send her regrets and have her mother accept them without any argument, scolding or guilt. However, the whole situation also put her on edge, because Pansy had trouble believing her good fortune. She knew her mother had the best intentions at heart, she just wished she trusted her enough to leave her alone in her foxhole.

 

Working on Potter's blasted antidote, even in the comforts of her quiet flat, did nothing to distract her from her misery. Every time she picked up a new book or reviewed her notes, trying to figure out what she was missing, her mind kept racing back to her argument with Ron, which resulted in her pitching another fit. Even the fact that it was now taking her longer to clean the flat up afterwards then the actual length of the tantrum itself did nothing to stop her from several paroxysms throughout the course of the day.

 

Finally, she just gave up; having realized that she couldn't remember the last time she had eaten. Pansy figured that cooking would at least keep her hands and her mind occupied enough for the time being while she worked her way through a bottle of red wine.

 

She was hoping to get just drunk enough tonight that she would pass out, because she hadn't slept since her fight with Ron. Unfortunately, she was at the point that if she didn't fall asleep naturally tonight, she was going to have to start taking that damn potion again, which she hated more than not sleeping to begin with. The stupid potion caused her to have worse nightmares than those she had when she slept without its aid. Pansy didn't want to ruin Draco's Valentine's plans by having a blasted nightmare. Mainly because she didn't think there was enough money in the world to get Astoria to forgive Draco if he had to run out to attend to Pansy.

 

She was pouring herself another glass of wine as she stared off into space, waiting for the timer to go off on her lasagna, when someone started knocking at her door. The sound startled her enough to make her jump and spill the wine she had been trying to pour, forming a large puddle of the dark liquid on the table.

 

_“_ Dammit,” she muttered with a heavy sigh, she knew her mother accepting her regrets was too good to be true.

 

Stalking to the door, ready to kill her mother, she continued to mutter obscenities under her breath. She thought about maybe hexing her so bad that she couldn't be seen in polite company, because that would ruin her party tonight. Anyway, who the hell threw a large dinner party on Valentine's Day?

 

Pansy just didn’t understand why her mother couldn’t just leave her alone? It wasn't like Pansy had a bloody choice in the matter of her love life. She knew that. Evidently, no one else did -- even though they all took the chance to point it out to her every bloody chance they got.

 

Pansy couldn't count the number of times that both of her parents, especially her father, had scolded her for her bad attitude towards relationships and marriage, in spite of all she had been through. If her parents wanted her married so damn bad, then they should just force her into another arranged marriage and be done with the whole charade of making a sodding love match. 

 

Slinging open the front door, she yelled, “Mother, I can not believe...”

 

She gasped when she realized it wasn't her mother standing on her front door step.

 

“Ron! What are you doing here?”

 

She watched him run his fingers through his hair, waiting for him to say something. Hell, anything. But he just seemed to stare at the door frame by her right shoulder. Pansy was so thankful to see him; she just waited patiently because she was so afraid that she would scare him off. And she didn’t have the courage to go into the store to make the first move towards an apology.

 

Finally, he said, quietly, “Ferret told me where you lived. I just wanted to apologize...” but then he trailed off.

 

She waited for him to continue. Part of her knew that she should just let it drop from there in response for him even taking this step but the louder half of her was still hurt that he thought so little of her. However, all that sailed away when she comprehended what he actually said.

 

Not wanting to throw away what Draco had presented her, she asked, “Do you want to come in?” hoping he would say yes. Actually, it was more like praying if she was honest with herself.  “I'm about to pull a lasagna out of the oven and sit down for dinner. You are more than welcome to join me.”

 

“I'm s-s-sorry,” he stuttered, still not looking at her, shuffling back from the front door. “I didn't know you had guests.”

 

“I don't,” she quickly said, grabbing for his wrist, silently imploring him to stay because Draco would have killed her if he found out she let him get away too easily, after the risk he took.“I was driving myself crazy earlier and decided to cook.” Quickly dropping her grip on his wrist, she stepped aside with the front door open, hoping he would understand what she wasn’t saying. “I have a bottle of wine open, but there is firewhisky in the bar in the front parlor, if you would rather.”

 

She couldn't stop herself from letting out an audible sigh of relief when he finally came into the hallway. Pansy blushed when he turned to look at her, having obviously heard her sigh. She smiled and didn't push him, still too afraid that he would bolt at any second; instead she quietly closed the door behind him and moved towards the kitchen. She figured he would talk when and if he wanted to. Pansy took to puttering about the kitchen, putting together two plates of food. When she turned to put the food on the table and let him know it was ready, she was surprised to find him already seated at a clean table with a glass of wine for himself, her glass, and a new bottle of wine.

 

Placing the dish in front of him, she gave him a small smile before curling her feet up and under her in her own chair to eat.

 

She raised her glass to him, not really expecting a gesture or words back with a soft smile.

 

He raised his own glass, returning the smile and asked, “Friends?”

 

“Friends,” she smiled, clinking his glass in toast.

 

“Look, I'm sorry...” he started.

 

“You don't have to apologize,” she interrupted. “I should have asked you about giving George the tickets and I shouldn't have tried to hide it from you.”

 

“I don't agree,” Ron replied, while picking up his fork. “I should apologize. I’m sorry that I believed the worse in you. I should’ve just asked instead of attacked you about it. It was a very generous gift, and I know Angelina and George are having a wonderful time right now.”

 

“What about me withholding information from you and then trying to lie about it?”

 

“I'm still not exactly thrilled that you did that, but what's done is done.”

 

“So where does this leave us?” Pansy asked, hoping that there was some way to go back to the easy friendship she had found with him. She figured she would start with the pink elephant in the room. “We both said…things…”

 

“That we did,” Ron agreed, his eyes focused on the plate in front of him. “And it's nothing we can take back.”

 

“But everything we did say was true, I guess. So let sleeping dogs lie?”

 

“No, it wasn't. I said something that wasn’t true,” Ron whispered still not looking up at her.

 

Pansy racked her mind, trying to figure out what he was talking about, but she couldn't come up with anything. He had been right; her family had survived the war intact when his hadn't. And she had tried to sell his best mate out when he had to save Draco's life. Everything he said to her was true. Shaking her head gently, she reached over to put her hand on his hand, whispering, “I don’t think you did. Anyway, it doesn't matter. I'm just glad you are here.”

 

“How can you say that?” he asked incredulously, his voice straining as he stared at her hand resting on his.

 

“Because I can't think of one thing either one of us said that wasn't true,” she gently but firmly told him. “You were right. My family is whole when your’s...”

 

“How can you say that? Your family isn’t whole,” he interrupted, pulling away from her. Suddenly she understood.

 

“Ron, please don't go there. My family is whole. I'm twenty-one years old, and my mother has been my mother for seventeen years, much longer than my mum was,” she told him while trying to reclaim his hand. She couldn't bear the thought of another guilt-ridden friend in her life, when there was no reason at all for either of them to feel guilty about choices other people made for her. “Please let it go.” The last sentence came out more forcefully than she wanted it to.

 

Ron fell quiet, staring at the plate of food in front of him. She tried to reach out to touch him again but he wouldn't let her. Pansy didn't know what she could say at that point to reach him. She waited for him to say something but he wasn't forthcoming. So she dug into the food on her plate, hoping and wishing that he would do the same, and that he ultimately would just stay.

 

Pansy didn't let a full breath out until she saw him pick up his fork and dig in. Closing her eyes briefly, she let out a grateful sigh. When she opened her eyes, she found Ron's eyes on her and she blushed as she bit her lower lip, but didn't say anything.

 

“So why weren't you going to be using those tickets?” Ron asked, finally breaking the silence of the flat. “I mean, they were the owner's box.”

 

Shrugging her shoulders, Pansy replied, “Originally? Before my mother planned a last minute dinner party for this evening? I had no one to go with. With it being Valentine's, Ferret is trying to impress Astoria at some fancy restaurant. And I don't ever recommend watching a Quidditch game with Nott, Goyle or Zabini. Especially Zabini. Zabini can't figure out his ass from a Bludger most of the time. Though I do, on most other occasions, find Zabini amusing, provided I get him to ingest enough alcohol. Draco and the others just want to throttle him when he's liquored up and beat me for encouraging his inappropriate behavior.”

 

“Do I even want to know what the story is with Zabini?” he chuckled.

 

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Probably not. I know Goyle, Nott, and Draco try hard to forget every time he gets liquored up since I won't let them use _Obliviate_.”

 

“That bad?”

 

“Like I said, I find it amusing only because I've been dealing with it since third year, but they don't,” she laughed at the thought of the last time. “I'm officially on a timeout after the last game. His commentary that night proved to be quite colourful and legendary.”

 

She watched as Ron threw his head back and laughed. Even if there wasn't a smile already on her face, she would have had one at that very moment just watching him.

 

“Oh, this I've got to know,” he grinned. “What is Mr. Zabini hiding in the closet?”

 

“It's not exactly in the closet. He's got this unrequited thing which causes him to turn into a bloody fool when he's had too much firewhisky.”

 

“You aren't going to tell me any details, are you?”

 

“No,” Pansy teased. “You've got to get it out of Draco. I promise it's worth your trouble.”

 

“Aw, come on,” Ron pleaded.

 

“Nope. You are out of luck, Weasley.”

 

“You're no fun. Next thing I know you are going to poke fun of me for hanging out with you for the fourth holiday in a row.”

 

“I wasn't.”

 

“I can’t believe that you were going to let that slide?”

 

Pouring herself another glass and topping off his with the rest, she said, “Well I was.”

 

“Yeah right,” he gave a hollow laugh. She hadn't noticed until that very minute how much she hated that sound coming out of his mouth. It just didn't belong.

 

“Honestly,” she told him firmly before returning her attention back to her food. “Anyway, I'm not the one bringing it up now.”

 

“I thought you girls liked to analyze every little detail in a relationship?”

 

“Ron, do you want to talk about whatever is bothering you or do you want to let it go?” she demanded, losing her patience with him.

 

When she didn't get a response after several minutes, she shook her head and answered his question, “Fine. Most do. I don't.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“I find it to be a waste of time and good oxygen. Most people would find that if they simply had honest conversations with their partners; paid a little attention to how their partner received and showed affection; relied a little on their instincts; and realized that successful relationships are more practical than those knut-store romances would have them believe – they would experience much less drama.”

 

“Wow. Been holding that in for a while?”

 

“Maybe,” she sighed. “I'm typically the one in my group of friends who everyone whines to about their relationships – which is odd, since my dating record is less than stellar. Daphne swears it's because I'm the only one willing to kick arse and tell people what they need to hear about their relationship and not what they want to hear.”

 

“If I ask you a question about what you just said will you snap at me?”

 

“No. Ask away.”

 

“What do you mean about paying attention to how a person shows and receives affection?”

 

“Everyone shows and receives affection, or love – whatever you want to call it – differently. For example, say all your parents do is tell you that they love you, after a while you learn to recognize that as love and in return that is how you show someone you love them. However, if your parents always physically touch you, giving you hugs and kisses when they tell you they love you, then you are more than likely going to show love the same way.”

 

She expected Ron to ask more, but he was quiet. Turning to look at him, she saw him deep in thought. Pansy let him have his silence; well, actually, she welcomed it, hoping that he didn't want to continue this conversation after all, and started to clean the dishes away.

 

“Do you think,” he asked, “if two people show love in different ways, that they can work as a couple?”

 

“Sure,” she replied, starting some coffee, “but each has to understand how the other shows love and both be willing to bend and learn from the other. They need to acknowledge that neither is right or wrong. They just show their love differently. And there is nothing wrong with that.”

 

“How do you show love?” Pansy froze when she heard him. It was an honest question, but she couldn't give him an honest answer, even if she was willing too. She stalled, contemplating an answer.

 

Finally settling on a response, she whispered, “I don't know. Relationships have never been high on my priority list. Which actually says a lot about my dating record. There are times I've been accused of making Zabini look like the poster child of monogamy.”

 

“What?” he sounded incredulous. “What about Malfoy? Didn't you date him for a couple of years?”

 

“The answer is yes and no,” finally admitting the truth even though she knew it would garner even more questions she really _couldn’t_ answer. “Our relationship was based on an expectation that we were supposed to be together.  We honestly tried to make it work for a bit, and I'm talking maybe a few months, but we realized we were better off being friends.”

 

“But I thought you two were together for a few _years_?”

 

“Ron, Draco and I carrying on the illusion of a real relationship was beneficial to both of us as well as expected by our families who didn’t want to admit publically to the arrangement. We are each other's closest friend, so it wasn't hard to maintain an illusion of affection in front of the school or our friends. If you watch us together even today, it's not hard to see why people not close to us still make assumptions.”

 

“Why did you stop then?”

 

“After the Battle of Hogwarts, expectations were finally gone for both us, leaving us free to do what we liked with our lives for a change. I do have to add, though, much to my frustration, it took Draco an additional three years to finally ask Astoria out on a date.” Shuddering at the thought of how many nights she had put up with his whining, she continued, “He drove me up a wall lamenting about how much he fancied her.  I came close to killing him a few times, just to get him to shut up.”

 

Ron began to laugh that loud, boisterous sound she had come to associate with him. She watched him in awe as the glimmer of the young boy she remembered from her school days came through. It made her realize just why most of the female Hogwarts population found him attractive when he kept his mouth shut. She was jealous that he could look so innocent after all he had been through. Pansy wondered if she ever looked that innocent.

 

“Hasn't anyone told you,” he laughed, “We boys are a bit incompetent when it comes to relationships?”

 

“At least you both provided the school with an unlimited supply of entertainment, especially during those bleak winter months.”

 

Pansy knew she visibly winced when she realized what she had actually said. She silently worked on building her courage to go after him while she waited for him to storm away upset

 

“It's nice to know I was a source of entertainment for you,” Ron teased her. She couldn't hide her shock at his jest. 

 

“You weren't the only one,” she replied honestly as she internally thanked every deity that he was able to laugh off her slight to him. “Anyway, don't forget about me being all gooey and pathetic over bloody Draco. Still makes my insides turn to this day if I think about it.”

 

She watched as Ron fell quite again. 

 

“Coffee?” she asked, getting up to get a cup herself.

 

“Sure.”

 

Pansy filled two cups with coffee and placed them on the table. Grabbing a canister of biscuits from the counter, she put them between the two of them before curling back up in her seat.

 

“I ended it,” he whispered staring into his coffee cup. “With Hermione that is.”

 

“Are you okay?” She honestly couldn't say she was surprised at his announcement as she had seen it coming since Christmas Day. However, she did her best to mask those feelings for his benefit.

 

“I actually find myself feeling better than I have in a long time,” he started, running his finger around the top of the coffee mug. “Though I'm not sure how she was so surprised by me ending the charade. She kept saying she loved me but it sounded like just words. Then I found myself trying to explain to her what I wanted that she wasn't willing or able to give me. I felt like such a prat bringing it up, but she kept wanting answers as to why I wanted to break it off. Asking me if there was someone else.”

 

“What did you want from her that she was unwilling to give?'

 

“Time. I wanted her around. No matter what she says, I did and do understand she has work and obligations with her parents.  I just never could get through to her that it would have been nice to have an evening together once a week. Something more than letters and an occasional twenty-minute visit. I wasn't asking for all of her spare time, but I was asking her for some of it.”

 

“What did she say about that?”

 

“That my expectations were too high, that I had been unwilling to be there for her, et cetera, et cetera. I woke up in the middle of the argument, realizing that I couldn't remember the last time she actually saw me. And here I was with the girl of my childhood dreams, being verbally castrated for not being understanding enough. My dream had become such a nightmare.”

 

“I'm sorry,” Pansy said, reaching out and touching his hand.

 

She watched as Ron seemed to study her hand on his this time. Thinking it was bothering him, she made a movement to pull it away. She was surprised, however, when he caught it in his hand and gently started to rub circles in the back of it.

 

“The worst part is,” he quietly said, “I'm not ready to face my family, though I think Harry and Ginny know by now, courtesy of Hermione. And if Ginny knows, then the entire family knows. I just don't want any of them drag me over the coals. I'm just not ready to face them.”

 

“I think you're selling your family short,” she told him, knowing that more than once she had done that to her family, especially Draco and her mother. “They may or may not respond appropriately at first, but I don't think they will drag you over the coals for ending a relationship when they realize just how miserable you were. If you want my opinion, I think you should just take the high road and keep what happened to yourself and explain to them that the relationship has simply ended. What happened between you and Hermione is your business and no one else’s, no matter what they say.”

 

“Is that what you did?”

 

“With Draco? That's what we both did. The end of our relationship and anything that may have led to it is no one's business but our own.”

 

“And people were okay with that?”

 

Pansy let out a laugh as she thought about their friends’ reactions when they found out, “Of course not, not at first. But, after a while, people started approaching us and telling us how impressed they were about us handling the end of our relationship in such a mature fashion. I think your family and friends will probably react the same way eventually.”

 

“You've never met my mother,” Ron replied petulantly.

 

Pansy sighed. “No, I haven't, but I think you are trying to be difficult at the moment.” She took a deep breath, “I won't harbor you forever, but there are three other bedrooms in this house: two on the second floor with Draco, and one on my floor. You are welcome to claim one as a hideout if you need. However, if I catch you and Draco dueling, I'll finish you both off myself.”

 

“Are you sure?”        

 

“About the room or the dueling?” she grinned, trying to tease a smile out of Ron.

 

“The dueling part. I know you are sure about the room.”

 

Pansy started to laugh, squeezing his hand in an attempt to reassure him. She watched as a smile started to form on his face, and the light that she hadn't noticed was gone slowly returned to his eyes.

 

“It's about bloody time you two made up,” Draco's voice rang through the kitchen. “Merlin, I was about ready to blab your little secret to get help from Potter and throw the two of you in a locked room. Pansy, do you realize that one of us had to live with Zabini for four days?”

 

Looking at Ron, she rolled her eyes, but called out to Draco, “I didn't make you move out. You did that all on your own.”

 

“You could've fooled me,” Draco's voice took on a tone of annoyance. “At least when I get mad, I only tear up the flat once. How many times did you tear it up?”

 

Ignoring his question, Pansy retorted, “Kettle, meet cauldron. How many times did you tear it up the first couple of times you tried to ask Astoria out?” 

 

”Regardless, you're forgiven. Only because I can now go crawl into my own bed and get a decent night's sleep without knowing the nature of Zabini's dreams. I swear, the years have only made them more colourful and indecent. It's a miracle that any girl ever stays over with him.”

 

“Night, Ferret,” she called out to his retreating form. She saw him sharply wave his hand, signaling his good night. Once she thought he was up the stairs, she burst out laughing, thinking about what Draco must have gone through the last few nights. It was obvious that Ron had thought she lost her mind.

 

“You do realize that he won?” he asked.

 

Smiling as she wiped away a tear, she said, “Trust me, he didn't. Living with Zabini is the one thing he hates more than anything; even you and Potter. He'll be fighting with me for at least two more weeks because of it. Trust me; you'll start to see the entertainment value of it in no time. Just remember that he is sometimes nothing more than a spoiled child who hates not getting his way.”

 

“Why does he hate living with Zabini?”

 

“I told you earlier,” she teased, “You will have to get that out of Draco. But rest assured, the story will be worth it.”

 

“Come on,” he whined, “Tell me.”

 

“No. And don't even try to get it from Nott or Goyle, if you see them. I happen to know they are in agreement with me that it is much funnier when Draco tells it.”

 

“Fine,” Ron pouted, pulling his hand away from hers and crossing his arms over his body. Pansy giggled at the obviously show of Ron's playfulness. “But instead you have to tell me something that only the Ferret knows about you.”

 

Pansy struggled to keep a smile on her face and lightness in her voice when she replied, “What?”

 

“Either tell me what is so funny about Zabini or tell me something about you that only the Ferret knows.”

 

“What do I get in return?” she stalled, trying to think of something she was ready to tell someone outside of Draco. Or, at the very least, something that only he knew that she could tell him.

 

“I'll return the favor.”

 

“That isn't fair. You are an open book.”

 

“You don't know what my biggest fear is?”

 

Pansy threw her head back when she laughed. “That's not a secret. Everyone in our class at Hogwarts knows. It's bloody spiders.”

 

“How do you know it hasn't changed since we were fourteen? I've fought a war since then.”

 

_Dammit,_ she thought, _he has a point_.

 

“Fine. I'll tell you something that only Draco knows but you have to tell me something that only Potter knows.”

 

“Fine. You first.”

 

Taking a few minutes to think about it, Pansy finally decided that the one thing that scared Draco the most was the one thing she wanted Ron to know, so she wouldn't have to go through the pain of someone finding out that secret abruptly again.  Unfortunately, if Draco or anyone else who knew the secret found out, they might just kill her and save themselves the hassle of keeping her alive. She just hoped that her gut instinct that Ron was worth this chance was right.

 

“My eyes,” she said, taking a deep breath. “They aren't hazel.”

 

“Nice try,” Ron replied leaning forward, clearly studying them. “But they are.”

 

“No, they aren't. They are this bright, purplish blue, almost the colour of the Wolfsbane flowers. I use glamours to hide them. Been doing so since I can remember.”

 

“Why?”

 

“They are beyond a bit much.”

 

She took a deep breath to settle the case of nerves that overtook her in spite of how badly she found herself wanting to show Ron. Pansy couldn't believe she was about to show anyone her eyes. Draco had been the last one to see their true colour five years ago.

 

Closing her eyes to remove the glamour, she didn't know what she expected Ron to do when he saw them. Taking another deep breath, she opened them.

 

She watched as Ron's eyes widened in shock and she waited for him to gasp, pull back or runaway. But he didn't. He didn't say a word as he looked at them, at her. For the first time, Pansy felt that someone was really looking at her, searching her face and eyes to make sure it really was her. She'd never known someone who could look at her like that and not be afraid and run from her in in absolute terror away as Draco had done.

 

“You can see why I hide them,” she finally said, breaking the silence. She closed her eyes to put the glamour back on.

 

“Don't,” she heard Ron snap. There was something in his voice that puzzled her. He wasn't angry or upset, but his quick, one word answer caused her eyes to open in a flash.  “Please don't...at least not when it's just the two of us.”

 

“Why?” she replied. No one had ever asked her to do that. They all insisted she used glamours on them, especially her father. They reminded them too much of her mum and what had happened to her. She never fought them on it because even if they hadn’t insisted, she would have done so anyway as soon as she had the chance.

 

But Ron appeared to see them differently. Under his watchful gaze, she felt more special than she had in her lifetime of only being told that. When he cupped her cheek affectionately, she melted into his hand.  

 

“I feel like I’m actually seeing you now,” he whispered.

 

“Okay,” she whispered back, unconsciously moving closer to him. “I think you owe me something in return.”

 

“I lied,” he smiled, removing his hand from her face but leaning in towards her. “I'm an open book. There's nothing Harry knows that you don't.”

 

“Bastard,” she smiled back at him, swatting at his head. In the back of her mind, she was wondering if there was some way she could kick Draco out and have Ron move in permanently; she had this crazy thought that her life just may be simpler that way. She just wondered how she would convince anyone to let that happen.

 

She watched him lean in even closer and whisper into her ear, “But what if I tell you something only I know?”'

 

“I'm all ears,” she whispered back, her heart starting to pound.

 

“I'm scared to lose you.” 


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter  8– Nightmares

 

“Aren't you done yet?” Ron's whine broke Pansy out of her thoughts as she was trying to finish up the books for the evening. The ministry's latest order of WWW products was the largest one she had to reconcile yet, and Ron didn't seem to understand that it took time. A lot of uninterrupted time. Then again, there was probably a reason that Ron, George and her all agreed it was in the best interest of WWW and its bottom line if she did their books.

 

“Like I told you ten minutes ago, no,” she sighed, readjusting her ponytail. “Why don't you go ahead? I'll finish securing the store tonight.”

 

“I don't want to be stuck in the flat by myself with Malfoy. He's playing poker tonight with Nott, Zabini, Goyle, and I don't know how many other Slytherins. You really can't expect us not to get back into bad habits and duel until we destroy the front parlor,” Ron teased his bright eyes twinkling like a small child on Christmas. 

 

Pansy looked up from the ledger, and knew that he was telling the truth. Though she had to admit that she had been impressed with the fact that in the ten days the three of them had basically lived together, Ron and Draco had managed not to hex each other to bits. Though there had been a wide range of childish jinxes used between the two, which had only led to several outbursts of laughter on Pansy's part which neither Ron nor Draco appreciated. 

 

She really hadn't expected Ron to stay this long when she offered him one of the spare bedrooms. In all honestly, she had expected him to go back to Grimmauld Place after a few days of quiet solitude and get back with Hermione, but he hadn't. She was beginning to think that there was more to the end of their relationship than he led her to believe. But she figured it wasn't her place to question him, as far as Pansy was concerned it really wasn't any of her business to begin with.

 

She also could've sworn he had basically moved in by the large amount of Cannons poster on the walls of the bedroom he had claimed down the hall from Draco's. But he hadn't said anything and again she didn't ask. While Draco just appeared to take it in stride, teasing her at every opportunity about her latest flatmate.

 

“You can always go to Grimmauld Place and I'll owl you when I'm done. I'm sure your best mate would love to see his supposed flatmate,” she replied trying to turn her attention back to the ledger. She didn't want to admit that in all likelihood, her concentration had become shot with the most recent of his interruptions. 

 

“Come on,” he continued to whine. “Tomorrow's Saturday. You don't have to go into the Ministry, do you?”

 

“No. Not unless something comes up...Why?” Exasperated she turned to look at him.

 

“Then I'll come get the books first thing in the morning and you can finish them up whenever you want from the comforts of your own room without me bugging you every few minutes to go home. Remember I have to work all day tomorrow.”

 

Ron threw Pansy his best puppy dog eyes.  She just gave up with a sigh and a shake of her head; she hated how powerless she was against that look. “Fine. But I want dinner or a bottle of firewhisky or something else, for having to work on the day I was planning on taking off and doing nothing.”

 

“Deal,” he said, throwing her cloak to her. Closing the ledger in front of her and removing it from her grasp before she could change her mind, before continuing, “But it's my surprise with when and what.”

 

“Fine. I have a question for you then, what are you going to do when we get back to the flat and I go straight to bed?” she asked putting on her cloak.

 

That stopped him in his tracks. Evidently, Ron never thought that that was a possibility when he started whining about going home. He just stared at her and whined, yet again, “But it's Friday. Let's go out somewhere.”

 

“I know it's Friday,” she replied, moving towards the fireplace. “It's been a long week at the ministry with 16 hour days thanks to all the arrests your best mate has been making the past week. I'm exhausted Ron. It's half the reason I can't seem to get the books reconciled tonight.”

 

“You're right. Let's get you home,” he said grabbing her suddenly pulling her body against his causing her to wrap her arm around his waist for balance, and Apparating them to her bedroom.

 

“You know you didn't have to do that,” she scolded him when she could breathe again swatting at him.  “I'm tired but I can get home by myself...

 

Anything else she was about to say trailed off her tongue with the sudden realization that her body in such full contact with his was disconcerting. And that was probably putting it mildly.

 

Pansy turned her head up to look at him, not wanting to remove her arm from around him quite yet, but he didn't seem too concern to let go of her either. Something felt right about it. From the way her arm seemed to fit around his waist, to how her body felt pressed against his body. She wondered how she never noticed it before – they were rather physically affectionate for friends. 

 

From the look in Ron's eyes and on his face as he focused on something straight ahead, she surmised he was pondering the same thing. Something was different now and Pansy couldn't put her finger on it. She just wondered when everything had changed. And how neither one of them noticed it until this accidental moment. Or was that the secret lurking behind Draco's smirks the last few days, when she caught his eyes?

 

However, a more pressing question started to form in her mind as she stood frozen in their once innocent embrace – would he stay with her tonight if she asked. She no longer wanted to sleep in her bed by herself tonight. She couldn't. She knew beyond a doubt that she couldn't sleep by herself. That she needed someone to stay with her and she didn't want to ask Draco to do that tonight. Or anymore. She wanted Ron to stay. She'd be safe with him. She knew it.

 

Pansy watched as he turned his face down to look at her. Even in the dim light of her bedroom, she saw something flash in his eyes causing her to gasp before she held her breath. She just wasn't sure what that something was.

 

“Ron,” she whispered as she felt his hand come up and caress her face. He didn't say anything as he tucked her hair behind her ear. His calloused fingertips carefully brushed against her jaw and neck sending a shiver down her back that she couldn't hide. Even if she wanted to, which she didn't.

 

“You look exhausted,” he whispered back, his voice strained. Pansy felt her feet go from under her as he swept her up in his arms. “Let's get you to bed.”

 

Pansy pulled her body even closer into him settling into his arms. He felt so warm and comfortable, so firm and powerful. Pansy felt safer in his arms at that very moment then she had ever had with Draco. Part of her mind recognized that thought as being a dangerous realization. For it was only a matter of time before he voluntarily went back to Hermione or Pansy pushed him back towards her, since friendship was all she could freely offer him. He deserved more than that. She believed he deserved everything. 

 

“Ron,” she whispered as he sat her on her bed, wrapping her hand in his jumper; a half-hearted attempt to keep him as close to her as possible. 

 

The loss of contact with his body caused her to suddenly realize that she didn't want to let him go. Pushing back the thoughts of how wrong her thoughts were, she made her decision.

 

_Damn the consequences,_ she told herself.

 

She wanted him for whatever time she could have him. If it was a week, a month or a year, or even just tonight, she didn't care. Pansy just wanted to feel normal. Like she did at that very moment with him. 

 

 He was now forced to sit beside her because of her grip on his jumper, causing the bed to sink further. In order to focus, she banished all other thoughts from her mind except her singular goal -- to get him to stay with her tonight. 

 

Pansy let him undo her cloak, pulling it off her and dropping it onto the floor. His eyes never meeting hers. Always looking elsewhere. She watched as he pulled her feet up over his legs to undo her boots. She fought back the comment that was on the edge of her tongue as he went through the motions of removing her shoes and socks because there was something so sweet about the gesture of him trying to get her ready for bed. Something she couldn't even remember her mother doing. 

 

“Go to sleep,” he whispered, placing a kiss on her forehead and pushing her legs under the covers as he stood up.  “I'll avoid the Slytherin gathering downstairs and promise the flat will still be standing in the morning when you wake. I'll behave.”

 

“I don't care,” she muttered. “I...” she started before he cut her off by pulling her sweater over her head.

 

“Yes you do care. Now go to sleep.”

 

“Ron,” she whispered, reaching for his nearby hand. She had the overwhelming need to touch him and for him to touch her even more. Instead he avoided her touch, pulling the sheets up and tucking her arms in with the rest of her body, while she pleaded, “Stay, please.”

 

She heard him groan as he shook his head before turning away and saying, “You need to sleep, and I promise you that you will sleep better without me hogging the bed and covers.”

 

“I promise you I won't,” she whispered, finally successful in grabbing his hand while his eyes focused on the door to her bedroom “You've stayed with me before on the couch. Stay with me now on the bed. Please just stay tonight.”

 

“Pansy, you don't understand what you are asking,” his voice cracked.

 

“I know exactly what I am asking,” she pleaded. “I'm asking you to stay.”

 

She could have sworn he said something, but no sound came out of his mouth. Pansy watched him pull his hand out, grabbing her cloak and sweater and placing them on a chair as he exited the room. He never looked back, leaving Pansy to watch his retreating form while tears started to burn her eyes. 

 

She waited until he had closed the door behind him without a good night before she started her tantrum.  She wanted him to hear her. To know that she was angry with him. To know that he hurt her. That his rejection had hurt her. She waited for her temper to boil but it didn't. Nothing happened except her eyes began to burn.

 

Sighing deeply, desperately trying to prevent the tears from falling, she pulled herself out of bed and started to take off the rest of her clothes, tossing them around her room instead of putting them away in the hamper in her dressing room. If Ron wasn't going to stay with her, then there wasn't a need to sleep in anything more than her underwear and a tank top as usual. 

 

Crawling back onto her bed to cry, Pansy felt her eyes grow heavy as her mind drifted off when she laid her head down on her pillow and snuggled into the sheets, tears rolling down her face. All her questions about why he wouldn't stay kept rolling through her mind. And all of those questions focused on Granger. Especially the one that caused her to be stumped – she couldn't figure out what Granger had that was so desirable to Ron.

 

In the distance, she vaguely could hear someone say her name as lights began to fill the blackness of the room. Looking around, she couldn't see a face or a body to go with the voice. Actually it was voices. She started hearing distinct voices yell. She did see an open door straight ahead. The voices were behind that door. Heading to the door, she carefully pushed it open a little further to see what was inside. Her curiosity always got the better of her. Her mum had sworn it would be the death of her one of these days.

 

The light blinded her momentarily until she saw her mum. There was something different about her.  

 

Bear. Her father. Her nanny. They were arguing with someone with long white hair.  Kingsley. Arthur. His face was as red as his hair. Professor Lupin. John.  Wands were drawn. Professor Dumbledore.  Andromeda. She was yelling. Screaming. Ted....

 

Voices started to yell at her to go back. To turn around.  To leave. The man with the white hair smirked at her. Someone yelled her name.  She saw her nanny start to run for her. Her blonde curls escaping from her bun. A purplish-blue light filled the room and more screaming filled her ears. Red lights. Pushing further, she felt something try to push her back but she refused to go back into that black room she came from. She fought off the arm that wrapped around her waist. Green lights. Running forward. 

 

She stopped in her tracks when all she could see in her field of vision was her mum laying in front of her as different colour lights flashed.  Her mum's long, wavy, auburn hair splaying around her head like a crown. Blue light flashed. Pansy ran to her mum and dropped to her knees. Grabbing the Slytherin green robes, she started screaming, as spells  continued to shoot over her head.  She screamed for her mum begging her to wake up. To say something. To say anything. 

 

But her mum didn't move. She didn't move at all. Red light flashed. Looking closer at her face, Pansy saw her mum's eyes wide and frozen in their purplish blue color. She screamed at her mum not to leave her. That she couldn't leave her by herself. That she needed to wake up. Her mum didn't move though. She just laid there starring at the ornate ceiling above. She screamed at her mother again, to wake up. The flashing colourful lights suddenly stopped. 

Her mum just laid there. She begged her to wake up. To wake up for her.

 

A voice yelling her name from the distance caused her head to snap away. She looked for the owner of the voice but saw nobody. She knew the voice but didn't recognize it. Something told her she had to find it. Her life depended on it. That her mum was gone and she had to save herself. That the voice could help her. It could save her. She had to save herself.

 

She had to find that voice in the sea of flashing lights that had started again. Hearing her name again, she turned from her mum's body and started to run towards where she thought it was coming from. Sending her back into blackness.

 

“Please!” 

 

The desperation in the voice tore at her, as she struggled to find it. Panic was starting to set in as she fumbled in the darkness. She needed that voice. Her chest was tightening up, making it painful to take a breath. She had to fight. She had to get to the voice. The voice could save her, would save her. If only she could find it. She had to find it. 

 

The darkness started to smother, as she stopped to listen.  For any sign of hope, of any sign that she was going survive this. 

 

There was her name again. Calling out to her. Calling her home. To safety.

 

“Please,” she heard the voice beg painfully. 

 

Tears began to form in her eyes, as she stumbled, the tightening in her chest started to become unbearable. Her legs unable to support her anymore, she fell to the ground. Crawling now, she was trying to get to the voice. To tell them it would be okay. That she was okay. 

 

But she was so tired; maybe if she took a nap, maybe then she could find the voice. 

 

“Don't leave me.”

 

She had to find the voice. Find the voice --

 

“You can't leave me.”

 

“Not now.”

 

“Not yet.”

 

“Especially now that I have found you.”

 

A rush a warm air hit her body hard. Her body jerked. A strong arm quickly tightened itself around her waist to stop her from continuing forward. She was held firm against a solid body, a warm solid body. Her eyes struggled to focus. Her mind still hazy, tried to figure out where she was. There was a buzzing in her ears. She was so confused. 

 

Her confusion led to her to crying, as she started to sob into the body that was holding her and rocking her. How could the voice have left her?

 

She refused to be alone in this world anymore.

 

He couldn't leave her. She wouldn't let him. 

 

“Princess?”

 

At the sound of Draco's soft voice, the fog lifted. Her eyes cleared, revealing her bedroom. 

 

A fire roared in the fireplace behind him as Draco stood at the foot of the bed, clothed only in a pair of black silk pants. His short hair was disheveled as if he had been woken up suddenly. His eyes tired but relieved. She could see the evidence that he had been crying. His eyes were red and puffy. She watched him wipe his eyes before running both hands through his hair, as was his custom when he felt any powerful emotion.

 

Guilt coursed through her body.

 

“Are you okay?” he whispered gently.

 

She nodded taking deep breaths trying to collect herself, she whispered, “I think so.”

 

“I'll go make some tea,” his voice cracked before quickly exiting the room. Her eyes followed him out before shutting tightly, trying to hold back the tears. Tears for Draco and what she must have put him through this time.

 

Seeing Draco leave, she finally realized that the feeling of being held had not left when he did. She looked down at her waist and saw a familiar freckled arm snaked around it. The feeling of peace rushed over her as she gave in to the sensation; collapsing into the body that was holding her. Pressing her face into the naked chest, she took in the relaxing scent. As he rocked her, he said nothing as she sobbed knowing that everything was going to be all right. 

“I'm sorry I woke you too,” she whispered when she was able to collect herself. She found herself running her hand softly against his chest, taking in the softness of the red hair she found there. 

 

“How often does this happen?” Ron asked.

 

“Every so often,” she choked out. “Nothing really regular, not anymore at least. You'll have to ask Draco for more specifics.”

 

Silence filled the room as Ron held her, his hands gently caressing her exposed skin, as he rested his head on Pansy’s. She continued to let him hold her as she clung to him not wanting this moment to end.

 

Breaking the silence, she whispered, “It's been awhile since he looked like that. Like he didn't think I was going to come out of it.”

 

“I don't think he did,” he responded softly, pressing a kiss onto the top of her head. 

 

“Is he okay?”

 

“I don't know. Why?”

 

“The last really bad one really destroyed him with everything else going on at school.”

 

“He...Wait a minute, how did he get to your room at Hogwarts?”

 

“We shared a room. Special arrangements were made so I could attend school with the nightmares and all. Draco was my roommate by the end.”

 

“Oh,” was all he said before going quiet.

 

“You didn't just scare him,” he whispered, kissing her forehead. “Draco heard you first. I came as soon as he yelled for me to move my arse. I don't think I've ever seen him that bent out of shape and that is saying a lot after the Battle of Hogwarts.”

 

“How long...”

 

“At least 5 minutes. I don't know how long Draco was up here before he yelled for me.”

 

“Where were you?”

 

“Having a drink in the kitchen. Collecting my thoughts.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Pansy,” he whispered. There was something in his voice that caused her to look up into his eyes. They were full with a thousand different emotions. There appeared to be so many thoughts, emotions, reactions running through his mind. She sighed as she felt his fingertips skim along her face between combing through her hair.

 

Reaching out with her hand, she gently touched his rough face as his hand explored hers softly, almost seductively. Feeling the growth on his face grazing along his jaw line, she let her fingertips touch his lips gently, tracing them, wondering what they would feel like against her own.

 

Draco's coughing brought them back to the present with a small jump. Pansy hadn't realized that she had gone anywhere.  Her focus turned to Draco, who had sat a tray with three cups of tea onto the bed. There was something different in the way he was looking at her. It only took a moment before she could put her finger on it. His eyes, they weren't filled with guilt anymore. After all this time, the simple realization he had finally let everything that had passed go, brought a soft smile to her face as she snuggled back into the safety and security of Ron's arms, as they instinctively wrapped around her tighter.

 

“I think you are going to have to tell him,” Draco gently said returning her soft smile.

 

“But...” 

 

Draco shook his head. “Theo will help me deal with your father and everyone else, if it comes to that. Weasley needs to know.” 

 

“But...”

 

“Just tell him Lizzie,” Draco snapped. Pansy gulped at the murderous look on Draco's face. Biting her lip, she knew at that very moment what he had done. He had just signed his death warrant.  For her. “Or I will go to your father first thing in the morning.”

 

“B...”

 

“Stop arguing and tell him NOW..”

 

“Does this have to do with your mum?” Ron asked quickly. She saw the flash of surprise in Draco's eyes at the question.

 

She nodded her head in response. Still trying to figure out how she was going to even begin to explain everything else. Or at least what she could explain and keep Draco safe.

 

“So,” Ron gently said, “Lizzie?”

 

“Um,” she said her eyes fixated on Draco for guidance. 

 

“Tell him,” Draco ordered, at that very moment it was easy to appreciate Draco as Lucius' son with his icy cold glare.

 

No one spoke, as she still tried to figure out just what to say to Ron. She took the cup of tea that Ron offered her but refused to move from his lap forcing him to move the tray closer so he had some place to put his own cup, since she was taking up one of his arms.

 

Taking a deep breath, she started “My given name is Elizabeth; Lizzie for short. The night my mum was murdered, I saw who did it. In the haste to protect me, I was sent away with my nanny. By the time I was brought back to England, the nickname Pansy had stuck and I officially became Pansy Parkinson.”

 

“You told me they never caught who did it. But why if you know who did it?”

 

Pansy started to say something, but Draco cut her off, “You forget Weasley that some wizards believed they were above the law prior to the war. And many of them found themselves to be with enough galleons to be so.”

 

“I don't understand.”

 

“Not just anyone killed my mum Ron,” she whispered. 

 

“It shouldn't matter,” he replied, Pansy felt something tug at her upon hearing his indignation rise in his voice.  “Murder is murder.”

 

“It doesn't matter...” she started before Draco interrupted her.

 

“She's right. You know as well as we do that there was no way that anyone was going to send my father to Azkaban at the time, especially not Cornelius Fudge.”

 

“What?” Ron snapped. Pansy tightened her grip on the cup as he looked back and forth between Draco and Pansy before focusing his eyes on Pansy. “I don't understand how....”

 

“Easy. Draco isn't his father. Anyway remember how I told you the Battle of Hogwarts took away a lot of expectations for the two of us especially the part where we are a couple. We worked through a lot to get to where we are because of that,” she reached her hand up to hold his cheek to offer him some comfort.

 

“But if Lucius killed your mum, then how? Your father wanted you…”

 

“It’s a long story,” Pansy said quickly cutting him off, knowing that Draco was squirming as much as she was at the moment. She cursed herself for bringing up that point; suddenly, she understood why not saying anything was always better than the truth.

 

“I’ve got time,” he responded. She could hear the determination in his voice and she didn’t know how to even begin to explain her so-called ‘relationship’ with Draco.

 

“He killed her because the match was initially denied.” Pansy spun her head to look at Draco. The fierceness in his voice only added to the determination in his voice. “Would you put anyone else at risk after _that_?”

 

“And the nightmares?” Ron asked timidly, changing the subject abruptly after a few minutes silence. His hand started to run through her hair gently, keeping strands tucked behind her ear, his face silently pleading for her to make him understand. 

 

“I relive everything I went through the night that she died.” 

 

She waited for him to say something but he didn't he just held her, studying her face. She hoped that he was finding the answers he needed because she wasn’t sure if she could make him understand though she wanted him too. 

 

“You knew,” he asked, his voice full of awe as she saw something click in his head. “You knew you were going to have one tonight.”

 

“She won't admit it,” Draco responded standing back up. Taking the empty teacups away from Ron and Pansy, he continued, “She always does this needy, desperate thing before going to bed. Quite annoying really. I'm just glad I don't have to deal with these on my own anymore. Since she doesn't seem to respond to me, like anyone bloody well cares in the first place. I'm just the bloody help. I'll see you two in the morning.”

 

“Draco,” Pansy called out. “Please don't go and see my father.”

 

“Remember – only you.”

 

Pansy waited until Draco had exited the room and closed the door before saying, “I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the nightmares.” Not really wanting to explain what Draco had just said to her, she wasn't ready for that part yet – if ever.

 

“Who else knows about them?”

 

“I think only Draco and my family but I'm not positive.”

 

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Pansy heard the hurt in his voice, and when she turned to him, she saw it as well. 

 

“I don't know,” she confessed, ashamed to look at him, though the answer she wanted to give was more than likely a resounding no. She didn't want to admit that to him. 

 

She felt him stand up with her still in his arms. When it became clear, he was only doing so to put her in bed again, her eyes started to burn. For it was obvious that he wasn't going to stay the night, even after a nightmare, and that was painful.  Through the fog of her tears, she watched him tuck her in. He was rejecting her twice in one evening. The very evening she needed him more than ever; whether he realized it or not.

 

By the time he had finished preparing her for bed, she had made her decision regarding what she was going to do next. She was going to fight him about this. She was going to fight for him. She needed him. And all that he gave her. No matter how short the time she could have him. She didn't care how wrong it is or what anyone would say. Or if it would hurt anyone outside of them. 

 

Grabbing his arm before he got too far, she pulled herself up onto her knees, and cried, “I'm sorry. Just please stay tonight.”

 

“Let me go,” he sighed, trying to undo her grip on his arm. “We can talk in the morning. I promise.”

 

“No.” she fussed like a petulant child. Hell, she felt like one at that very moment. “No.”

 

“Pan...Liz..What the hell am I suppose to call you?” he yelled at of nowhere, his temper suddenly boiling over. She refused to let go of his arm. She knew if she did, he would just leave faster.

 

Her mind suddenly cleared as she focused on him; on his long red hair and bright blue eyes. His pale complexion littered with freckles. She didn't give a damn about anyone else anymore. He was the only thing that mattered to her at this very moment. She wanted him to be her world. 

 

 “I don't care what you call me,” she fussed. “It doesn't matter as long as you are the one doing the calling.”

 

“Parkinson,” he growled meeting her glare for glare. She saw a familiar flash in his eyes, a flash of desire and decided to push her luck. It was now or never.

 

“Why don't we just be honest with each other?”  she whispered settling the nerves that were threatening to take over what little sanity she had left.

 

“About what?” he spat back, anger still seething through his voice.

 

“This.”

 

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, knowing that this was the craziest thing she had done yet when it came to her favorite Gryffindor. She grabbed his face between her two hands and held his head still as she pressed her lips to his. 

 

To her immense pleasure, she felt his arm wrap around her waist and pull her body against his as he started to kiss her back. A moan escaped her mouth, as she allowed his tongue to slip past her open lips, deepening the kiss as she threaded her fingers through his hair.

 

She felt him pull back suddenly causing her to groan at the lost of contact with his lips.

 

“Stop thinking,” she whispered, searching his panicked-filled blue eyes.  “Please.”

 

“I wish I could,” he whispered, resting his forehead against hers, his eyes now closed as if in pain. “I just don't want to hurt you.”

 

She bit back the response that was at the tip of her tongue. There wasn't any need for him to know that that wasn't possible. In the end, she would be the one hurting him and Draco would pay the price too.

 

“Ron, I'm not asking for tomorrow or next year. I'm just asking you for tonight.”

 

“And in the morning?”

 

“We'll talk,” she smiled wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his. “We don't even have to figure everything out...Promise?”

 

“Promise,” Ron replied, a smile returning to his face, his hand running down the curve of her face as he studied her. “You sure about me staying tonight? I not only will hog the bed, I also snore.”

 

Pansy threw her head back, “I'll think I'll live. I've already become accustomed to sharing a couch with you and this bed has much more room.”

 

Pulling back from him as she sat back on the bed, she asked, “Are you coming to bed or what?”

 

“You first,” he said gently pushing her back on to her back and crawling in beside her.

 

She watched him lay next to her, propping his head up on his arm. Her hand explored his face, shoulders, and arms. “See that wasn't so hard.”

 

“No,” he told her, reaching out to run his hand along her jaw line. “I guess it wasn't.”

 

She gently pressed her lips to his, and whispered, “Good night.”

 

“Come here,” he groaned, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling him to her. She moaned in response, feeling him press against her as he kissed her again.

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 – Ron's Birthday

 

“The game was awesome!”

 

Pansy looked up from the book she was reading on her bed to see Ron come into her room via the Floo network. A large smile was stretched across his face and his blue eyes twinkled. Pansy wondered if that was how he looked on Christmas morning. She hoped she was around to see it for herself.

 

“So asking if you and Harry had fun is a silly question?” Pansy teased, marking her page in the book, as she watched him remove his jumper and boots by the couch.

 

“Completely. Especially since the Cannons won. Their new owner has done wonders for the team. Who would've thought that adding someone past his prime like McCullen would be what that team needed? You have got to introduce me to the owner sometime. I want to shake his hand,” he told her while making a move on the chess board. 

 

She watched him stand up and move towards the bed. “I don't understand why you insist on using Muggle chess pieces. They aren't as much fun.”

 

“Stop being a boy. If you win, you can re-set the board with wizard chess pieces,” she laughed as he crawled onto the bed with her, stealing a quick kiss, before plopping down on his side facing her. “You do realize that if you do though our pieces will probably get mad and start playing the game themselves the way we've been playing.”

 

“So what you are telling me is that we need to sit down and play a real chess game.”

 

“What else would I be saying?” she teased.

 

“Oh I don't know, that you are too scared to take me on?” he teased back while winking at her. His eyes full of mischievousness.

 

“And here I was thinking that you were too scared to take me on,” she replied tossing the book onto her night stand before leaning down to kiss him.

 

“You forget that one of us won house points for their chess skills.”

 

“Like when you were what, twelve?”

 

“Ah, she wounds me,” he fawned melodramatically falling onto his back. “You know you are supposed to be nice to me, it is my birthday.”

 

“And if I told you to go get your chess set, will I be forgiven?”  

 

“Really,” he said popping up on his arm to look at her. “You really will play chess with me? Outside of what we do with that over there?”

 

“Of course. If I hadn't been so distracted with work, I would have challenged you weeks ago. I haven't had any competition since I moved out of my parents' house. And in case you haven't figured it out yet, the Slytherin boys are easy money.”

 

“And you're not doing this because it's my birthday?”

 

“Not at all. I really just want to hang out with you and play chess, since Harry got you this evening,” she grinned pushing him off the bed. “Just go and get your chess set. I'm going to go get the real rest of your birthday.”

 

“There's more?” 

 

Pansy cocked her head to look at him having heard the incredulousness in his voice. It made her wonder what had people done for his birthday in the past, if a pair of Quidditch tickets and the promise of something more could get this kind of reaction out of him. Hell, Draco cost her hundreds of galleons every time his birthday passed and he was just her best mate.

 

“Of course there is more. Why wouldn't there be?” Pansy asked. “It's your birthday and everyone deserves the next two things.”

 

“But you already gave me tickets to the owner's box for the Cannons’ game.”

 

“I know. I promise it's not much more,” she told him, placing a kiss on his cheek. “Let me go grab the rest of your birthday while you set up our game.”

 

“Where is your set?”

 

“On the mantle. The box becomes a board. Now go,” she giggled pushing at him to get a move on.

 

“Got it,” he cheerfully replied, kissing her hard before jumping off the bed.

 

Pansy watched Ron run out of the room like a young boy. She laughed out loud as she followed him out of the room and down the stairs to get the rest of his birthday. She could hear him looking for his chess set as she passed his room. Well, what had been his room, as he hadn't really stayed there in several days. She was amazed that his cloths had basically stayed down there though she had made room for him in her dressing room. 

 

 

 

“You sure smile an awful lot these days,” Draco teased, playfully bumping into her as they crossed paths on the stairs.

 

“I haven't heard you complaining.”

 

“Just an observation of the nice change in your angry countenance,” Draco replied. “Don't get me wrong, I like this attitude better than your old one.”

 

“It's never just an observation with you Draco. But be nice and keep them to yourself.”

 

“Speaking of why you would say that, you really should go have lunch with your father on Sunday. He is becoming a bit insistent that I make you go visit him and your mother; like I could ever make you do anything you don't want to….But it's also becoming a bit hard to dissuade him from just showing up over here.”

 

“He's become that determined?” 

 

“You have no idea.  I've been skirting his questions and presence probably more than I should at the moment.  Theo says he's started asking him sly questions about you and your recent activities.”

 

“You are kidding me,” Pansy replied, her eyes wide from the shock of hearing what her father had been doing. The simple fact her father had taken to interrogating Theo about bothered her deeply; not that she was actually going to say that to anyone, even Draco.

 

“Sadly, I'm not,” Draco sighed. “Why do you think you haven't seen any of the guys? It's not because you've been spending so much time with the Weasel in your bedroom. It’s more along the lines of what they don’t know can’t hurt them, me or you.”

 

“I hadn't noticed.”

 

“Of course you haven’t. But you've been so happy, I've not brought it to your attention,” Draco explained. With a shake of his head, he continued somberly, “Regardless your father did make several attempts at following me home after the Cannons’ game tonight – I think someone told him about the Weasel and Scarhead using your box tonight. It frankly was a miracle that I was able to keep him out.  Just so we are on the same page, I gave those tickets to Scarhead without your knowledge because you weren't using them since you were under the weather and sleeping, if he should inquire.”

 

“Thank you,” she whispered, kissing him on the cheek. “I really appreciate it.”

 

“You do, however, owe me.”

 

“Don't I always?” she laughed starting back down the stairs.

 

She heard him call out, “I would like a bottle of something decent for my trouble this time.”

 

“Is that it? Only a bottle?”

 

“I think a bottle of Wilkinson's would be just about right.”

 

Pansy chuckled, “If that's all, I will bring something home for you tomorrow.”

 

“What if I change my mind and tell you I need something more?”

 

“I'll still bring you home a bottle of something decent,” she yelled back up the stairs.

 

Reaching the kitchen, she grabbed the chocolate cake and champagne out of the icebox as well as forks and glasses. Pansy realized that she couldn't carry plates too but she figured Ron wouldn't mind eating straight from the box. It almost suited them by throwing out any semblance of the propriety her parents had ground into her.  Maybe that's why she liked spending time with him; he expected nothing from her or of her. He seemed to simply want her. And her to be nothing more than herself.

 

 

When Pansy got back to her room, she laughed out loud at the sight that greeted her. Her ebony and ivory Muggle chess set had been relocated to the table behind the far sofa and in its place on the coffee table was another chess board with both of their Wizarding chess pieces set up, starting to taunt each other. 

 

She wished she had challenged him to chess earlier; noting that his set looked like it was on its last leg. Pansy made a mental note to purchase him a new set the next time a gift-giving occasion arrived. 

_Or maybe_ , she thought, _she would just leave a new set lying around with hers to see what happened._   

 

But the best part of the scene was Ron stretched along the couch, his hands behind his head. Looking as smug as a cat who got the cream. He looked so relaxed and happy which made her even happier. She had never known that someone could make her this happy.

 

“Ready to get your arse kicked Parkinson?” he drawled with a smirk on his face. She laughed because that smirk would have been major competition to Draco's own.

 

“I'd like to see you try Weasley,” she replied sticking out her tongue. “I'm not some foolish school boy when it comes to chess.”

 

“I haven't lost since...well I can't remember.”

 

“Is that the case?” she teased. “You do realize you should be nice or you won't get the rest of your birthday?”

 

“You mean you weren't kidding about there’s more?”

 

“No Weasley, of course not. That's why I just climbed down three sets of stairs to retrieve champagne and a curious white box. Now move it. I want to sit down,” she retorted, nudging at his legs. Handing him the bottle as he sat up, she continued, “Make yourself useful and open this.”

 

“Hey, I thought it was my birthday,” he teased taking the bottle and glasses. 

 

“It is, but it doesn't mean you can't be helpful.” 

 

She heard the pop of the champagne bottle, as she opened the lid of the box, so he couldn't see what was inside. Grabbing his wand from the coffee table, she lit the candle and pulled a small chocolate cake out of the box, while he poured two glasses of champagne.

 

“Happy Birthday. Make a wish.”

 

He blew out the candle. Handing her a glass of champagne, he leaned in and whispered, “Thank you,” before stealing a kiss that softly lingered a moment, her favorite type of kiss from him, the one that was so soft and tender but said much more behind the gesture.

 

“You're welcome,” she said, softly smiling back, clinking her glass with his. “I hope you don't mind eating straight from the cake. I couldn't balance plates with everything else.”

 

“You know you do have a wand,” he said, taking a bite of the cake.

 

“Yeah,” she groaned. “Except it doesn't do you a lot of good if you leave it in your bedroom while you are in a kitchen three flights down.”

 

“Good point,” he teased stabbing at the cake again.  After eating the bite he had stole, he took the cake out of her hands and put it on the table, “Come here. I haven't seen you all day.”

 

She curled up between him and the back of the couch and settled in. “Better?”

 

“Of course – I have champagne, a great chocolate cake and a wonderful girl. What more can a guy want? So, how was your evening?”

 

“Boring without you to distract me from my project. I'm finding myself going in circles and still tilting at windmills. You know when I started this project, I didn't expect I'd actually get anywhere but now I just feel like I'm missing something important the more I re-read and re-test every theory I've come up with or anyone else has for that matter.”

 

 “Do you have a deadline approaching?”

 

“Thankfully no. This project has been lingering for such a long time that no one would set a deadline.”

 

“Then why are you working on it?”

 

“Somebody,” she slightly growled, “appealed, quite rightly, to my need for a challenge. So here I am almost three months later and I'm no further than I was at the first of the year.”

 

“I’m sure you will stumble across the answer sooner or later,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her forehead causing her to moan.

 

“You know,” she said with a soft smile, starting to draw idle patterns on his chest. “I hadn't realized until tonight how much I appreciate and enjoy the distraction you provide. I think I would've driven myself mad much sooner with the project if I hadn’t had you.”

 

“Really?”

 

The sound of surprise in his voice caused Pansy to look up at him, “Of course. You do realize that not only do you keep me grounded in my reality, you've also given me something that I hadn't realized was missing, a separate peace.”

 

“Hermione always said I was a nuisance. Always...” he started but she shushed him placing her fingers on his lips. She didn't want him morose on his birthday.

 

Smiling softly, she said, “I'm not her.”

 

“I'm sor--”

 

“Leave it,” she whispered, pulling his face towards hers. “We can talk about it tomorrow but right now it's your birthday. We should be celebrating, not going down traveled paths that are sad and troubled.”

 

Leaning in, she pressed her lips against his. Slipping her hand behind his head, she held him in place until she felt him relax and start to move his lips against hers. Her head started to spin, as his kiss became more insistent, more hungry. She opened her mouth to him, so he could taste her; so she could taste him, taste the flavor of champagne and chocolate cake. 

 

She slowly shifted her body to rest upon his. Her knees on both side of his hips, his hands exploring her legs and her sides caused her to shiver with the ghost of his touch.

 

“Yes, Ron,” she moaned softly in reaction to the way he was making her body feel, to the way he was making her feel. 

 

Breaking away from his lips, she started to explore other parts of him with her lips: his face, his jaw, his ear, his neck. Kissing every inch of exposed skin. All the while feeling his hands graze over every inch of exposed skin on her arms before slipping underneath her shirt. She moaned his name in encouragement again, hoping he would go further tonight, having grown tired of waiting to feel every inch of him in close contact with her. 

 

Suddenly, she felt his hands freeze.

 

Opening her eyes, out of the confusion she felt, she whispered, “What?”

 

He didn't say anything. He just looked at her. Searching her eyes for something that Pansy couldn't figure out. Ron did it every time they stopped but she had yet to figure out what he was looking for and she hadn't been able to get it out of him. Instead she had settled with being content with what little physical affection she could coax out of him before he would pull away.  

 

But she was tired of waiting. She needed to know what was holding him back from being with her in every possible way.

 

“Ron,” she whispered, her hand brushing against his face, pushing his red hair away from his eyes before gently running her right hand down his jaw. “Tell me. Please.”

 

“It's nothing,” he whispered, as he moved to recapture her lips with his.

 

“No it's not nothing, or you wouldn't have stopped,” she replied, denying him her lips as she rested her body on his. Her head situated on his shoulder. It may have been a bad time, but she needed answers – or at least questions, so she could provide the answers. “Talk to me please. I need to know what's bothering you...So I can be here for you.”

 

“Are you…” he whispered painfully, trailing off before actually saying what was on his mind.

 

“Ron,” she whispered insistently. “Please talk to me.”

 

“Are you doing this because it's my birthday?” she barely heard him. 

 

“What?” she asked in amazement while thinking of all things she figured he could ask her. It wasn't like they hadn't gone through this every night since the nightmare.  “What would ever give you that opinion?” 

 

“Never mind,” Ron quickly said, reaching up to her face. “Forget I said anything.”

 

“No.” Pansy firmly said sitting up on Ron's lap. “Not until you tell me what is going on. Something has been holding you back since the beginning. Please talk to me. That's all I'm asking. ”

 

She watched him struggle with what he wanted to say. Reaching out to touch him, she caressed his face, before whispering, “Please just talk to me. I want to know what you are thinking. We are in this together. Remember that.”

 

“Why me?” he whispered. “You...I...”

 

“Why not you?” she smiled, gently running her finger down his jaw line. “You are everything a girl could want in a boy.”

 

“But Hermione always said --”

 

“She is not here,” she interrupted. “I am. And this is exactly where I want to be. I want to be anywhere you are.”

 

“The tickets. The champagne. The cake. All of it,” he whispered his hand moving to touch her face. “All of that just for my birthday?”  
  


“Yes,” Pansy emphatically replied, leaning back over to silence him with a kiss before he could drag their conversation further into a melancholy tone that wasn't needed on a birthday. “All of it.”

 

“But why?”

 

“Why not? You know, Draco has remarked that he likes this new Pansy. The one that has emerged since you came into my life.”

 

“What were you like before?”

 

“Melancholy and angry at the world, But then, while trying to hide from my family and friends at the Leaky Cauldron, I took a chance to sit with this annoying Gryffindor who somehow brought a little peace into my life. And with that little peace, came unexpectedly a little happiness.

 

“There are times, I do feel like I'm competing with Granger's ghost because she somehow made you doubt the man you are, but I'm telling you right here, right now – you may not have been the man for her but you are the man for me.” 

 

The look on his face after she finished made her regret forcing the whole issue with him. She could see that Granger was at the root of it all, but for the life of she couldn't fathom how that woman couldn't see the wonderful, one-of-a-kind man that was Ron Weasley. She should have just let him have his way earlier and avoided the conversation. But she also didn't want him to avoid every hard conversation with her either. 

 

Continuing, trying to chase the ghost of Granger from Ron's eyes as he looked at her she whispered, “You were everything I wanted before you stumbled into my life. And you are everything that I want now. And tomorrow you will be everything I want in my future.” Her lips exploring his expose flesh again. The entire time, praying to Merlin, that they wouldn't stop again tonight. For if he did, Pansy was going to track down Granger at the Ministry tomorrow and hex her into oblivion for all the nonsense she had put into his head about relationships and sex. 

 

She finally felt his body relax under her ministrations, wrapping her hands around his neck, she pulled him closer to her, pressing the rest of her body into him. 

 

“You are everything I want too,” he moaned, as she nipped at his collarbone.

 

Looking up at him, she smiled and replied, “Good. Now that that's settled, where were we?” before pressing her lips back against his. 

 

Unlike every time they had kissed since their first kiss, there was no hesitation on his part. Pansy inwardly smiled at the thought that he may have finally realized that he belonged to her as much as she belonged to him. That he may not have been perfect for Granger but he was perfect for her – and that's what mattered. He was irrevocably a part of her life and she wasn't going to give him up anytime soon. It was a battle he was going to lose, time and time again.

 

She felt Ron's lips start to trail soft kisses along her jaw and then he moved down her neck. Those kisses on her neck did something to her. A shiver ran down her body causing her to arch into his body in pleasure with a soft moan for more.

 

“Gods Ron,” she moaned, untucking his shirt so she could touch his skin. Testing this new found boundary, she grazed her fingers along his sides and the band of his jeans, finding the edge of his pants. When he didn't fight her, she started to tug at the shirt, wanting it off.

 

Ron stopped what he was doing to cluck at her, “Impatient aren't we?”

 

“You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this,” she sighed, watching him remove his shirt, ogling the way his body looked. There was a time when she was younger that she thought he was too freckled but now, it just looked sexy, youthful, and good. More importantly, he was hers. 

 

“How long, Miss Parkinson,” he teased before his lips attached to her neck as they started to mark her neck as his.

 

“Long enough to stroke your ego just a little more,” she grinned taking control to trail kisses down his neck and chest. 

 

With each kiss she told him, “Yesterday...Last week...First kiss...Valentine's...Every dinner...Every hug...Every kiss...Every look...”

 

“Pansy,” he moaned, grabbing her head and silencing her with a deep and heated kiss.

 

“I think I have a better idea,” he said breaking the kiss and pushing her up as she struggled to catch her breath from that kiss.

 

“I don't,” she teased, leaning back into him, capturing his lips again; trying to get him back down onto the couch.

 

Feeling his lips move down her throat, he whispered, “I'll make it worth your while.”

 

“Promise?” she said before gasping as he nipped at her neck. The sensations running down through every inch of her body searing into her soul.

 

“Promise.”

 

She regretfully let him untangle himself from her and step away from the couch. For a split second, she hoped he was going to challenge her to strip chess. However, he offered her his hand and pulled her up to stand on the couch, so she could look him directly in the eye, before he teased, “I believe someone has too much clothing on.”

 

“I agree,” she laughed and made a half-hearted attempt at his jeans.

 

“Not so fast. I'm not done exploring you yet,” he pushed her hands away, before grabbing at her tank top and pulling it off, “Now that's more like what I had in mind.”

 

“Is that so, Mr. Weasley,” she cooed pressing her body up against him, feeling him start to lay kisses down her throat, down her shoulder, across her chest. 

 

Reaching behind her and unsnapping her bra, she moaned, “I thought this might be more what you had in mind,” before tossing it aside.  

 

“I'm not complaining,” his voice had taken on a husky tone before capturing her lips again for yet another head-spinning kiss.

 

“I'm not letting you go,” she informed him. She'd actually kill Granger before letting her back into his life. He was hers now.

 

“Possessive aren't we?”

 

“Yes.” Pushing her hips into his, she slowly curled one leg around his hips. “You're mine.” 

 

Pulling her face back from him she whispered, “Bed. Please. Now.”

 

She watched as Ron looked at her face, appearing to be searching for some clue that she wasn't teasing, and it was frankly annoying the piss out of Pansy, especially since she thought they had gotten past his hesitation when it came to the physical part of their relationship. 

 

“Ron,” she fussed. “Stop thinking and take me to bed.”

 

She felt him withdraw a bit.  Gripping him tighter, she quickly tried another tactic – she huskily whispered in his ear, “I'm telling you right now, I'm yours. Now make me yours. Make me your last birthday present.”

 

_Turns out that was all he needed to hear_ , Pansy thought to herself as he carried her wrapped around him to what she hoped was the bed.

 

Feeling her back come in contact with her sheets, his body pressed into hers before he carried her into an ecstatic oblivion. One that she realized, she had only dreamed of before.


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10 – Parents Think They Know Best

 

Pansy stood in the vacant morning parlour at one in the afternoon, expecting to find her mother and father there waiting to pounce on her. Well, she expected her father to pounce at least, after dancing around his prey before attacking – not relenting until Pansy gave up and gave him exactly what he wanted. Though, to be honest, she wasn't sure anymore just what he wanted. Her mother, on the other hand, would be more subtle, though about as subtle as an iron pipe across the head. Pansy had always figured with parents like hers, she really didn't need enemies.  

 

Looking around the beautifully decorated room, Pansy tried to figure out what she was missing. Draco had relayed the message that she was expected at lunch on Sunday, whether she wanted to attend or not. As her eyes fell on the piano situated in the corner, she came to the conclusion that Draco had set her up that there had never been a lunch planned for her with both of her parents – only a meeting with her father. Pansy mentally started making plans to hex Draco's bits off for selling her out to the man, especially after promising her he wouldn't. She should have realised he had been too nice as of late.

 

Nothing good ever came from any conversation between them when they were by themselves, not these days and especially since she knew he was still upset with her for the choices she had made regarding her life prior to Christmas. And now that they hadn't shared a civilized conversation since Christmas, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that today was not going to end well for one of them. The only thing left to wonder was how nasty they would get with each other without either an audience or her mother to referee. Frankly, she was amazed that her mother hadn’t hung around to ensure that they kept their ‘conversation’ as civil as possible. To the point, that Pansy couldn't remember the last time her mother had left them alone when things were this bad between them.

 

Dragging her feet the entire way as her bad mood grew, she moved across the house to her father's favorite room for when he wanted to be on the offensive in their disagreements – his office. She mentally prepared herself for the onslaught by thinking of ways to castrate Draco as she made her way to the hungry lion's den. She needed some form of motivation to survive her father being an arse to her on what had been a beautiful Sunday afternoon.

 

Opening the large double doors that led into his office, she saw her father sitting behind his antique mahogany desk at the other end of the room. The fire that was roaring in the fireplace near the desk highlighted the greying sandy blonde colour his hair and beard had started turning just after the last war. His short hair and trimmed beard paired with a navy silk button down made him look every bit the powerful lord and master he portrayed himself to be in every facet of his life. There normally was no doubt who was in charge when he entered the room.

 

Except when it came to Pansy and they both knew it.

 

She smiled inwardly thinking of how he often commented that he wished she was just as scared of him as everyone else was. One of these days she figured when he wasn't expecting it, she would remind him that she still remembers him as her favorite knight before her mum died. The same one that gave her piggy-back rides and brought her sweets every time he came to visit them. Pansy often wanted to remind him that she still remembered the man he had been before both of their lives were irrevocably destroyed.

 

Pansy continued to move quietly and slowly towards the dark green, wing-back chairs stationed in front of the desk. She took her time so she could have a quiet minute to look at her mum's portrait still hanging above the fireplace. Her mum looked so eloquent and regal, even though she was perched unladylike on a balustrade overlooking the gardens of Avalon from the cottage there. The pose was so typical of the defiant woman that Pansy struggled to remember with every passing day. Her mum’s eyes though were full of playful mischievousness, moments that had been few and far between when she was a child as tendrils escaped the up-do holding her brilliant red hair back.

 

Even now, gazing upon her, Pansy wondered who had been standing behind the artist as he captured her in that moment. She often dwelled on the fleeting moments from her childhood when her mother looked truly happy. More often than not melancholy dominated her every glance and look, especially when her mum looked at her when it was just them and her nanny. Pansy had tried for years to figure out just who had always been in the room when her mum was truly happy but she still had no answers to the enigma her mother had been and to her still was.

 

In the end, she guessed it didn't really matter. She just wished she had had a chance to know her and really know her. Even just a little bit; she devoured any bit information that anyone could give her. To add to it her mum had hated Wizarding portraits with a passion and had left Pansy only Muggle portraits to remember her by.

 

For a split second as she looked upon her mum, she regretted the ongoing battle with her father. Since the nightmare she had had two weeks ago, she hadn't the courage to venture inside  the house in order to look at the portrait; to help remember the colour her eyes had once been – green, a bright green, a Slytherin green. In fact, the green of spring in Avalon that had once been her favourite colour and not the bluish-purplish colour they had become. She knew that she needed to find the strength to hang one of her mum's portraits in her own flat but even with Ron in her life; she still doubted that would be anytime soon. She really was too much of a chicken when it came to her legacy.

 

“Hello Daddy,” Pansy said, as she sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk. She chose the one that was the farthest away from the door, but gave her a clear view in case she needed to make a quick, clean escape from the man. “I was under the impression we were all to have lunch today. At least that was what Draco led me to believe. So may I ask where Mother might be?”

 

“Shopping for the twins as their birthday is coming up. She was going to see if you wanted to join her, but I talked her out of it since, if I remember correctly, you have a particularly strong disinterest in shopping,” he explained, not looking up from the paperwork he was studying. “But I could be wrong as for who knows; that very well could have changed since the last time you took even a moment to grace us with your presence.”

 

“Don't be ugly, Daddy.”

 

“Kettle meet cauldron.”

 

Pansy shook her head as she looked at her father still buried in his paperwork. “So did you want to talk to me by yourself or do I simply owe you for saving me from being dragged all over London today by Mother?”

 

“A new bottle of Sheridan's Finest will be just fine as payment for my services rendered,” he replied, looking up. He set the paperwork aside as his ghostly light blue eyes appraised her. “In fact, I would prefer the same caliber bottle as the one you removed from my stores without my permission last month.”

 

She couldn't help but smirk for the request had made his intentions perfectly clear to someone who had been negotiating with him for years.  Her father was an expert in distracting his victim until he was ready to strike which Pansy appreciated because she had been caught in his subtle traps more than once. With a slow nod of her head, she smoothly said, “I'll send over a replacement bottle tomorrow afternoon. Is that acceptable?”

 

“Perfect,” he said, leaning back in his chair, his eyes hesitating on the single picture in a silver frame on his desk. Pansy never could understand, or for that matter never would even if she lived a million years, why the only picture on his desk in his office was one of her. She had asked him several times as to why he never changed the picture even as she grew but he would simply tell her to try and remember. To her eternal frustration, he would always leave it at that. ”In the future, I would prefer it if you would act like an adult when it comes to accessing my private stores.  Do you hear and understand me?”

 

“Yes sir, I won't do it again,” Pansy knew her father was bluffing, but she did her best to look somewhat ashamed for taking that bottle of firewhisky.

 

“You do realize that all I'm asking you to do, and all I have ever asked you to do, is to have the good decency to ask for a bottle if you need or simply want it. Heaven forbid you should forget that I have yet to deny you anything you have ever wanted. So please do us both a favor and stop acting like a spoiled brat--”

 

“Old habits die hard Daddy.”

 

“You know if you act like an adult, I might just treat you like one.”

 

“Yes sir,” Pansy sighed, leaning back in the chair, knowing he had won. Studying her father as he sat patiently in his chair looking at her, she asked, “So what did you really want to talk to me about? I know it's not about a bottle of firewhisky.”

 

“Can't I just want to talk to you? You know that funny little thing we use to do before you started pulling away?”

 

“It's kind of easy to pull away when you started doing the pushing.”

 

“Lizzie,” he growled

 

“Philip,” she growled in return, matching his glare as he leaned forward, resting his arms on the desktop.

 

“Kettle meet cauldron.”

 

“Likewise.”

 

“Fine,” he retorted in a clipped tone. “Since you won't be an adult, I noticed you lent someone use of your boxes on two separate occasions.”

 

“Why do you care?” she asked, shrugging her shoulders while trying to maintain a collected and indifferent appearance. “Draco has free reign over the use of my boxes when you don't need them.”

 

“I know that,” he started. “The reason I'm bringing it up is that Draco wasn't the one using your box on either of the occasions I'm most curious about.”

 

“I do know other people not named Draco, Daddy.”

 

“True but they weren't used by Theo, Blaise or Greg.”

 

“And I do know people not named Theo, Blaise or Greg,” she grounded out, fighting back the tantrum she really wanted to pitch though she couldn't stop her eyes narrowing in his direction.

 

“Well that's excellent news. As far as your mother and I were concerned those four were the only people you willingly associated with when we don't force your hand about adhering to your social engagements and responsibilities.”

 

“Are you telling me that it is a problem when someone uses the boxes and it is not one of the aforementioned four? Because I thought we agreed that I am allowed to use my boxes as I want except when you are in need of them for business purposes. Or do we need to amend the agreement accordingly? ”

 

“Don't be coy with me Lizzie. I didn't and still don't believe for one second the story that Draco tried to feed me about the box for the Cannons' game so I'm merely curious as to whom you give the tickets to?”

 

Shaking her head, Pansy let out a snort in amazement. “Fine Daddy, if you don't want me to bullshite you then at least extend me the same courtesy because I know you know bloody well who I gave them to. Please just make your point regarding this. I'm quite tired of this particular line of inquiry because I have no clue as to where you are going with it.”

 

“Just when exactly did you become acquainted with Arthur's two youngest boys?” her father asked firmly.

 

“Hogwarts,” Pansy answered, struggling to maintain her unaffected look. She figured if her father wanted to play, then she would play back. Desperately trying to maintain control on her temper because she knew the moment she lost it, that it would benefit neither of them. “You do know that the youngest one was in my class. The other was quite hard to miss given him and his twin's penchant to cause mischief and mayhem where ever they went.”

 

“You've never mentioned them before.”

 

“Chalk it up to school prejudices.”

 

“Well you appear to get along now --with you giving them your box and all recently. So is there something you aren't telling me?”

 

“No,” Pansy lied, if Draco was willing to go to the mat for her, then she would do the same for him. “Anyway does it really matter?”

 

“Does it matter?” her father asked incredously, slamming a hand down on the desk. “You know bloody well it matters.”

 

“Of course I do. Because it will be a cold day in hell before you let me fucking forget,” she snapped, hissing back. “Here's the problem, I've decided it only matters because you and the others say it matters. But guess what – I don't think it matters, not anymore.”

 

“Stop playing games and be forthcoming with me Lizzie. I'd really like to know what is going on with you and your life. I would love to know why you let two of the Weasley boys suddenly use your box. Or for that matter, please tell me why you are always saying you are at work or busy with work. You honestly cannot be spending that much time at the Ministry. Kingsley would say something to me if you were.”

 

“Please, Daddy. This coming from the man who taught me and Draco all we know about playing games,” Pansy shook her head. “I gave the Weasley boys the tickets because I wanted to. Nothing diabolical there so stop reading anything into it.  And second, I really do have that much work due to an outcrop of wizards who have been practicing dark magic as well as questionable potion making. Sadly, I'm the only one at the Ministry able to make hide-or-hair of most of the potions they have been finding in raids. Feel free to check with either Kingsley or Harry regarding that one, they can both confirm it. So are you happy now Daddy?”

 

“Nice try but you are leaving something out,” her father smirked, leaning back in his chair.  “Something else has changed. It's one thing for you to stay away from your mother and I, especially after the holidays, but it is an entirely different thing for Draco to avoid me as he is at the moment.  I believe that Draco knows why you've maintained your distance from us and is keeping his own because of it. I know given time and the right motivation, I could get it out of him. However, I've decided I would rather hear it from you. So pray tell me what is going on with you?”

 

“Again nothing,” she replied coolly. “Nothing is going on. Haven't you thought for a moment that the two of us might need a break from everything and everyone, including and especially you? It's not like we don't deserve it after all we've been through together.”

 

“If you think that anyone, especially myself, will let the two of you forget your responsibilities, you are sadly mistaken Lizzie. You may not like your stars but remember you, and you alone, condemned Draco to his.”

 

“I have never said I didn't condemn him to his lot but the rest of you shouldn't expect him to take every snide remark you cast his way with a grain of salt. He is told again and again and _again_ what he can and cannot do. And what he can and cannot allow me to do. We know the rules. Draco knows his job and his responsibilities regarding my safety. Please do us a favor and leave us alone for the time being. And if that's too much to ask, then direct your unfounded anger towards me and leave him alone.”

 

“Fine I will leave the two of you alone once you prove to me that nothing is going on. That you and him aren't hiding something from the rest of us. Something important to not only your own existence but all of our existences,” her father growled. “I’m realizing that I have been too lenient with you. It's high time that you start taking your responsibilities seriously and show up where you are suppose to be, when you are suppose to be there and most importantly, do what you are suppose to do!”

 

“No.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I'm busy.”

 

“That has never stopped you before.”

 

“Well I don't care anymore.”

 

“Yes you do.”

 

“No I don't.”

 

“You realize you do have a life.”

 

“At least one of us believes that.”

 

“This is your life, whether you like it or not.”

 

Pansy snapped back with a hollow laugh. “My life? Blow me Daddy with all your bloody interference that is.”

 

“If you would just accept that this is your life, then the others and I wouldn't have to interfere in order to keep you safe.”

 

“You know what? I'm tired of fighting all of you about all of this,” Pansy hissed back. Hurt didn't even begin to describe how she felt. She couldn't understand how he could demand her to live her life when it was clear that he wouldn't let her live it the way she wanted to: quietly, unnoticed, tucked away in her lab, playing with her potions set as far away from her legacy as possible. “Please do me a favor, either arrange another marriage which you swore to me you wouldn't do to me again or leave me be and stop forcing suitors down my throat at every event like you think something will change.  I don't care anymore what you do because I'm done with all these bloody charades you have forced me to play all these years. Do you hear me Philip? I am done. ”

 

Pansy got to her feet in preparation to leave and get as far away from the man she remembered loved her as his own what seemed like a lifetime ago. Fighting back tears that started to burn her eyes at that thought, she wondered just when she had lost her favorite knight.

 

“I cannot believe you would say something like that to me,” her father snapped, rising to his own feet. “What would your mum say if she heard you? She sacrificed everything for you to even have this. The least you could do is stay within the boundaries you have and fulfill your responsibilities. This is bigger than all of us. You best not forget that.”

 

She snorted as she started tapping her foot, and said, “Despite popular opinion, I've come to terms with my lot in life. I've come to terms with what I will _never_ have. So please take a lesson from mother and only pull the daddy card with Daisy and Dahlia, Philip.”

 

“Don't you dare say that to me, Lizzie,” he growled slamming his hands on the desk. “And stop tapping your foot at me!”

 

“Then stop trying to guilt me into doing whatever you want me to do by bringing mum up.” Pansy snapped back, trying to hide all the hurt she felt inside because she doubted he even cared anymore. “We both know bloody well what she wanted for me in spite of everything, and thanks to Lucius Malfoy even that won't happen. Nothing will change Philip, no matter what anyone does. What rules or boundaries I do or do not follow. And given what happened to my mum, maybe it's for the best that I'm stuck in a prison of iron and glass. Have you ever thought about that?”

 

“Lizzie,” her father pleaded. Pansy jumped at the sound of her father's voice.  He only did it when he was at his breaking point with her. She knew the tone well; she usually could drag it out of him once every few years.

 

Turning to leave, she mockingly replied before he could go any further, “I know, I know, I know.”

 

“Why don't you at least try?”

 

Pansy rolled her eyes at the sound of his voice, any of that sad, defeated tone he would direct to her was gone; replaced with his normal cold drawl.

 

Turning back around, she said, “I do try and I have tried but the lot of you only see what you want to see. And since you appear to have decided that I'm going to fail, you only ever see me and what I do when I have done something wrong in your eyes. And it's only gotten worse, since Draco grew bloody backbone.”

 

“There's growing a backbone and then there’s doing what's right, do not mistake the two.”

 

“And there's also this concept of letting go,” she snapped back at her father. “Let me go. End this fucking charade Philip. Please I'm asking you. Instead of acting like my father, why don't you just be him?  Please do what's right by me and let me have my bit of happiness, the one I've found playing with my potions set. Be my father Philip that's all I want at the moment.”

 

“How can you ask me to end it, when it’s bigger than even you?”

 

Closing her eyes, Pansy hung her head and sighed, “You all have wasted how many years wishing and hoping for what? For what happened all those years ago to miraculously disappear; to never have happen; for that bloody prophesy to be wrong? We both know that my future is set, nothing is going to change that.”

 

“But there is still hope--”

 

“No there’s not Philip.”

 

“But what if that's what the--”

 

Tired, Pansy just cut him off, “All your wishing and hoping is wasted on me Philip.  All either has ever done is leave a bad taste in my mouth.  You can't order me to change how I feel about that.”

 

When he father didn't say anything in response, she started to walk to the door, looking at the floor.

 

“Lizzie,” she heard him call out. “Why don't you care about being who you are?”

 

Turning around, she looked at him, showing him for the first time that day how hurt she really was by his comments and accusations. “Philip, like I've told you and the others time and time again, please don’t sell me short. I do care about who I am, but instead I'm standing here as your daughter asking you to let me do just that, to just be your daughter in more than name. I want you to just let me be happy with what little I do have. That is all I have asked of you and the others these past few years and all I'm asking now. Please leave me be.”

 

Taking a deep breath, she sighed as she pleaded, “Philip, either let me go or be my father.  You can't do both, not anymore; it just hurts too much. I've told you time and time again what I want from you and the man I remember from my childhood, the one that used to take me to the zoo and to sporting events isn't what I want Philip. I simply want my Daddy.”

 

When he didn't say anything, the feeling of rejection filled her. She slowly turned around and walked out of her father's study. Realising that this was just one more time when he didn't hear what she was actually telling him.

 

Once in the hallway, she saw her mother enter the house from the front door, arms loaded with packages. She remained in the shadows of the entry to her father's library too tired to risk engaging her mother.  Arguments with her mother never ended with her victorious and she couldn't stomach two losses today; not with what just happened with her father.

 

Pansy watched as her mother set down the bags, and removed her hooded cloak, revealing her thick, golden blonde curls that hung to her waist. Her mother had picked up her bags and begun to move gracefully into the foyer. Pansy held her breath as she was about to head up the grand staircase, but her mother saw her in her hiding place.

 

“Did you have a good conversation?” her mother asked, remaining on the bottom of the stairs a few feet away from her. Pansy could feel her bright brown eyes look her over.

 

If there was anybody in her family she sold short on a regular basis it was her mother who always had her best interest in mind. The one person to do so outside of Draco, Pansy had realized long ago, though she did her best not to admit it. She knew deep down that her mother's often insensitive and mainly persistence matchmaking attempts were just a show to keep her father and anyone else out of that arena of her life. A sick, twisted game of protection but Pansy would be kidding herself if she didn't believe that it helped in some little way, some of the time. She just never wanted to play her mother's game or anyone's game for that matter; she wasn’t the game-playing type unlike all the others.

 

“Well, you will be happy to know that we didn't say anything worse to each other than what we did at the New Years' Ball.”

 

Her mother waited a few moments studying her before replying, “So why do I believe you are leaving something out?”

 

Pansy rolled her eyes as she sighed. One of these days her mother was going to have to explain to her how she always caught her in a lie. No one did it better, faster much to her constant aggravation.

 

“Well, he didn't say anything worse to me than what he did at the ball.”

 

“So what did you say to him?”

 

Hanging her head down, ashamed of what she was about to admit to, “I may have asked him to let me go.”

 

“How could you say that to him after everything he's been through for you? To protect you and keep you safe and alive,” her mother said with a sigh, shaking her head.

 

“I know, Mother but in my defense I asked him to either let me go or be my father. I told him he couldn't do both anymore.” Catching her mother's eyes narrowing at her in displeasure, Pansy sighed, “Fine, you're right, I shouldn't have said that. I promise to apologize. Please don't ask me to do it at this moment.”

 

“I'm not happy with what you said to him; he did give up a considerable amount for you. However, it is nice to hear you at least making a valid attempt to be mature about it. You have a week to act upon your promise to apologize before I involve myself in this latest squabble between you two, for it would be nice to see you at lunch again on Sundays now that the twins are back at Hogwarts.”

 

“I'm sorry about that,” Pansy half-heartedly apologized but hearing the obvious hint in her mother's voice. “Work has been crazy and I needed a break from Philip.”

 

“You know he really does love you Lizzie, even if you are prone to forgetting that these days.”

 

“It just doesn't feel like it anymore when he makes it clear what he wants and that isn't another daughter.”

 

“Oh Lizzie, stop being petulant about that,” her mother sighed before falling quiet and just looking at her. Pansy started to fidget after a few minutes knowing that when her mother took this much time, she was considering her words and most often was at her most dangerous. “Just because you make the distinction in your mind when you are angry with him especially those times he won’t allow you to run away from your responsibilities and/or your life, doesn’t mean that he does. You will always be his daughter.

 

 “You know, when he joined us in France, all he would do is shut himself in his office, and bury himself in his work, before drinking himself to sleep looking at that picture of you that still sits on his desk. It took a lot of time, and me removing the bottle from his hand more than once, but he slowly came back. But he came back to you; for you –not me. No matter what anyone tells you, including him, I am not now nor have I ever been nor will I ever be number one in his life. You are. You've always have been and you always will be.”

 

“I wish it wasn't that way though. I don't want to be number one in his life; I just want to be a part of it. If anyone should be number one, it's you or Daisy and Dahlia or even Theo, but not me,” Pansy responded truthfully though she wasn't quite sure were her mother was going with this. Of all people who knew her lot in life, her mother had always been the one to not play games behind closed doors when it was just the two of them, much like Draco. However, this was starting to feel a little too much like one of her father's games to her. “So why are you telling me this now after all these years?”

 

“I'm telling you this, Lizzie, for one reason and one reason alone – I want my husband back. He hasn't been the same since New Years. He is constantly angry and despondent; he's destroyed his library on more than one occasion because of one thing or another involving you,” her mother said in a tone that let Pansy know that she wouldn't be denied. “And frankly, it would be nice to have a meal together without two of my favorite people in this world focused on hurting the other as much as possible. You would do best to remember that your father isn't the only one you hurt with your biting comments towards him. You may not like what we do and have done to protect you, but all either one of us has ever wanted is for you to be happy which is what we promised your mum we would do.”

 

Pansy didn't know what to say so she stood there with her mouth closed. She watched as her mother's demeanor change suddenly. Her mother's eyes focused on her face, studying it as she moved closer to where Pansy stood. Unnerved by the examination, Pansy fought her instincts to either bolt or fidget because she was afraid her secret would be discovered the moment she reacted physically and she was not prepared for the fallout that she imagined would follow.  
  


“Lately I've been afraid that he has forgotten the little girl you were: the happy little girl who brought a smile to everyone in the room when she entered it with her bright shining eyes, the same bold, vivid colour as your mum’s. But I do remember her,” her mother softly said, now close enough to reach out and cup her cheek affectionately. “And I think I see glimpses of her now in your eyes. Something has brought that glimmer back to your eyes and whatever has happened to cause that – go for it.” The concerned look that fell across her mother's face caused her to open her mouth to say something in response but her mother just shushed her with her fingers as she softly continued, “But it's a whoever isn't it?”

 

Pansy was too shocked to say anything. She just stood there frozen as her mother said, “Please tell Philip about this. Show him, what you and Draco are obviously hiding from us. Please Lizzie show him that in spite of Lucius Malfoy and everything that you are – miraculously – still here with us.”

 

The tears that began to fall from her mother's eyes stunned her even more, as her mother whispered, “Please tell him. If you can’t do it for yourself, then please do this for me.”

 

It was clear that her mother expected her to go right back in the study – to really talk to her father and not just at him besides revealing her secret. However, she couldn't bring herself to even consider going back into the study now. She simply was not strong enough to admit that she had lied to him about what was really going on in her life especially when it involved someone that she had been forbidden from pursuing romantically.

 

Regardless, what hurt the most at that very moment was that he couldn't see her. In fact she couldn't remember the last time he actually did.  Her mother could see her. She saw the same changes Draco had been teasing her about but why couldn't he? Tears welled up in her eyes as she stood there with her mother who was still crying. Closing her eyes, she admitted to herself, she wasn't being fair to him; for she couldn't remember the last time she actually saw him. And not simply accuse him of being a monster she had made him out to be, time and time again though deep down, she knew he really was trying to do right by her.

 

He just couldn’t, when he didn’t see her.

 

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath to steady herself before replying, “I'll come to lunch on Sunday.”

 

“Should we expect your bodyguard too? Or perhaps someone else will be joining us instead?”

 

“No. Just me.”

 

“Not the answer I want but I'm glad you will come will come without Draco,” her mother replied, kissing her on the forehead. Turning around she started moving back towards the staircase. “Frankly, besides having grown weary of the two dueling knights at my lunch table, I'm tired of you hiding behind Draco. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad that you two are so dependent on each other and I certainly cannot expect anything less from the two of you given the lack of an appropriate childhood. But I would prefer to see you stand on your own two feet more often. I'll expect you at one in the afternoon next Sunday. Bradford will pick you up from your flat at a quarter after twelve.”

 

“Yes ma'am,” Pansy replied dutifully, as her eyes followed her mother ascend the stairs without looking back, though one of her hands kept wiping at her face.

 

Pansy closed her eyes and with a heavy sigh Apparated out of her parents foyer and into the comforts of her own bedroom. Collapsing onto the couch, she summoned herself a glass and a bottle of firewhisky while kicking off her shoes. After pouring herself a drink, she curled up and settled into the sofa, starring at her ebony and ivory Muggle chess set.

 

Grabbing the ebony knight from the board, she just stared at the piece, playing with it between her fingers, her mind replaying everything that had been said today between her and her father; and more importantly everything that her mother had said to her. Especially the part where her mother could see a glimmer of the little girl she remembered – the girl who had had a mum that would sing her to sleep at night before tucking her in and whispering a bedtime blessing.

 

Pansy had no idea how long she had been sitting there, so lost in her thoughts while fiddling with the knight that Ron's voice startled her enough to drop both when he softly asked, “Is everything okay? You seem really distracted.”

 

 “Fine,” she forced a small smile, picking up the miraculously unspilt drink and knight before putting it back on the board, “Like you said, I'm just distracted.”

 

“Is there a glass for me?” he asked, joining her on the couch.

 

Summoning another glass, she poured him a drink. “There is now,” she answered, handing it to him.

 

“So was lunch with your family as fun as mine?” he asked, taking a sip before setting the glass down to bend over and take off his boots.

 

“Unfortunately, mine turned out to be more of an ambush by my father then lunch with my parents. You?”

 

“Ambushed by a few more people. You should consider yourself lucky that I even survived.”

 

“Well, I agreed to go to lunch next Sunday with my parents if that makes you feel any better,” she said, adjusting her body as he laid down beside her so that she was between his body and the back of the sofa. It let her sip on her drink while still being held by him. She needed to feel him at the moment more than anything else. With him holding her, she knew everything would be all right. Or at least the promise of everything being all right was enough at the moment.

 

“That would be Saturday for me. The whole bloody family will be there this time. So you should expect me to come home in pieces, if at all.”

 

“Well the conversation today with my father went really bad. We kept slinging mud at each other until I ended it with a low blow.  And then my mother ended me with one of her own.”

 

“Sounds like day except my mother got in all the low blows,” he whispered, squeezing Pansy tight against his body before placing a kiss on her forehead. “If I forget to tell you later, I'm glad to have someone to commiserate with. Everyone else I know likes to tell me I'm in the wrong about ending it with Hermione.”

 

“No problem, I know what it's like to have no one on your side. All I've ever had until now is Draco and there is only so much he can protect me from when it comes to the...my parents,” she whispered back, barely correcting herself in time. The panic she felt coursing through her, left her unable to continue for a few minutes before she said, “Remind me to send a bottle of Sheridan's over to my father tomorrow.”

 

“Why?”

 

“He called me out about taking one last month. Oh and one for Draco too, as a thank you that is.”

 

“Why Draco?”

 

“I'm realizing he has been shielding me from my father more than I thought the past few months. It's the least I can do for the grief he's gone through.”

 

“So Draco sees him a lot I take it?”  
  


“Every day,” Pansy said, reaching over Ron's body to put her glass on the table. “He has the misfortune to work for him at Pendragon.”

 

“How does he manage that?”

 

“I don't know honestly. I can barely have a civil conversation with my father anymore.”

 

“Was it really that bad today?” Ron gently asked setting his own glass on the table, to wrap her completely up in his arms.

 

“Yes but unfortunately, I probably hurt him more than he hurt me. My mother on the other, well that was an entirely different matter, seeing as I agreed to come to lunch without my bodyguard by the end.”

 

“Bodyguard?”  
  


Pansy mentally cursed herself a new one because of her slip up before she carefully replied, “That's her nickname for Draco.”

 

“Wow,” Ron whistled. “No offence, it is kind of hard to see Draco as that kind of guy.”

 

“Don't worry your view of him is perfectly safe. He's really not; unless I'm involved. I often call him the big brother I never wanted.”

 

Ron let out a laugh, causing Pansy to smile herself. She really appreciated in the limited amount of time she had spent with Ron, his ability to make her feel better no matter how bad her day had gone. A fleeting thought crossed her mind that maybe this was what her mother was talking about earlier.

 

“Enough about me though, what happened with your family today?” she asked, nuzzling into his neck.

 

“Got ambushed by Ginny and Mum the minute I walked in the door. Poor George and Angelina tried to save me from them, but they were beyond unsuccessful. And when Ginny and Mum were done, everyone else kept going on what a fool I was about leaving Hermione. They kept saying that she was the best I was ever going to have, how could I just let the girl I had been in love with since I started Hogwarts go, et cetera, et cetera. I started to zone out Ginny's ravings after she started to threaten my bits so most of the afternoon is actually a bit fuzzy.”

 

“She better not threaten your bits,” Pansy perked up, lifting her head so he could see the wicked grin she knew was stretched across her face. For the perfect idea to cheer them both up after the day they had had crossed her mind. Leaning over she purred, “After the day I've had, I think I just might have plans for your bits.”

 

“Oh you do,” he teased, setting his glass on the table, “And what did you have in mind Parkinson?”

 

“Something that starts like this,” she purred crawling on top of him, straddling his hips before kissing him whole-heartedly.

 

“Oi!” Draco's voice echoed in her bedroom, causing Pansy to fall off of Ron and the couch, followed by a loud bang from Draco flinging the bedroom door open.

 

“What the fuck Draco!” she shouted back from her new position on the floor.

 

“Didn't I tell you to behave when you left earlier?” he shouted back at her, running his hands through his hair. “What the hell did you say to him?”

 

Pansy recovered just enough to find her voice, “To whom?”

 

“Your father,” Draco yelled back, as he started to pace, his hand never leaving his hair. “What did you say to him?”

 

“Just the usual things these days, why?”

 

“Then why the bloody hell is he all about an arrange marriage suddenly? Especially after I seem to remember him swearing to me that he would not to do that to you again after we called off our engagement!”

 

“Oh,” Pansy whispered gulping, “that.”

 

“What?” Ron yelled, standing up quickly.

 

“Yeah, exactly, Weasel,” Draco huffed as he continued to pace the room. “What the hell did you say to him Pansy?”

 

“Of all the things he actually heard me say...” she started trying to appear more collected on the outside than she was on the inside.

 

“What?” Ron and Draco yelled together.

 

“He's just calling my bluff,” she said, refusing to look at either Ron or Draco, instead focusing on the chess set.  “I wouldn't take it seriously. I tried to force his hand about something before I left and this is probably just his way to tell me his decision or get an apology for even asking what I did.”

 

Draco shouted, “What exactly did you say to him?”  
  


“When?”

 

Draco growled, grabbing her by her shoulders and lifting her up onto her feet, “Stop stalling Lizzie. You know exactly what you said so tell me what you said to him, _now_!”

 

Pansy felt very small at the moment when she said, looking at Draco's feet, “I asked him to either arrange a marriage like he swore he wouldn't do or let me be and not force suitors down my throat at every event. I just wanted him to stop interfering and let me be.”

 

Draco's hands dropped from her, causing her to fall onto the couch. His voice shaking, he whispered, “What were you thinking? You know damn well he's never going to let you be.”

 

“Explain.” Ron ordered. 

 

“You know what, I'm with him about this,” Draco growled stepping away from her.

 

Pansy curled up as deep as she could in the couch as both men poured themselves drinks. She just wished she knew what she was supposed to say to either one of them. If Draco didn't understand why she said what she did, then there was no way for her to explain it to Ron. She wasn't ready to let him go and now because her father refused to choose a role in her life, she was going to lose the best thing that ever happened to her.

 

Hell she had even forgotten about it after all her failed begging to get him to just be her father. She had hoped that he would chose to just be her father, so she had a chance of finding the courage to tell him what Ron really meant to her. In a million years, she never thought he would actually try to arrange another marriage for her, or that Draco would attack her regarding that, or worse yet, that Ron would hear what had actually transpired today between her and her parents.

 

“I'm waiting,” Ron coolly said, interrupting her thoughts. “Because I sure as hell would like to know where I belong in your life, since an arranged marriage is on your mind enough for you to even bring it up in a fight with your parents.”

 

“And I'd sure as hell would like to know exactly why I have been risking your father's and everyone else's wrath for since Christmas,” Draco growled.

 

“Christmas?” Ron snapped. It was clear that though his eyes were focused on Pansy, the question was directed towards Draco.

 

Draco snapped back, “Isn't that about when you came into her life? My lying to him about your relationship is as much about protecting you as her, Weasel. You are the last person that Philip Parkinson would want,” Draco narrowed his eyes at her, “in a relationship with his little Lizzie.”

 

“So are you going to start explaining just what the hell is going on?” Ron asked pouring himself another glass. “Why your father doesn't approve of me and why the Ferret feels the need to protect me.”

 

“Draco...” she whispered hoping he would help, pleading with him silently with her eyes too. Praying to every deity that he would take pity on her

 

Instead he shot her a dirty look as he took a seat on the couch facing the one she sat on. “You know your mother has been on me to force you to stand on your own two feet for some time now. And from where I stand right now, having signed my own death warrant for your arse in order to encourage whatever the two of you have -- this looks to be as good of time as any. _You_ are going to explain it to him not only why all of the Weasley boys are forbidden to you but also why you brought up an arranged marriage seeing as you are in a relationship with him without any help from me. While you are at it _you_ are going to explain to me why you would say such a thing to your father.  As far as I'm concerned, you dug this grave, all by yourself. Either get yourself out or finish the damn job.”

 

Tears starting to stream down her face, she hung her head defeated and sobbed until Draco growled, “We are still waiting Lizzie. So start talking.”

 

“You know what Draco,” she screeched back, finally snapping because she actually could, “in my little toss-up with Philip, you know what I kept asking him over and over again?  I kept asking him to make a choice: to either be Philip or be my Daddy. And you know what, I told him what I wanted him to be, what I wanted him to choose. I stood there in his office and told him I wanted him to be my father, to chose me Pansy,  to do the right thing by me and let me be, let me live, and let Lizzie go so I could be free of his rules, and tyranny when it comes to every detail in my life. And you know what he does? He says nothing, not one word to me. And now _this_. How do you think I feel at the moment Draco? Huh? The man, who is supposed to be my father, doesn't choose me when I ask him to. He expects me to call him Daddy but he won't be mine.”

 

“So you know what,” Pansy sobbed, flinging herself off the couch as she continued, “Like I told my father earlier: I'm done. I can't do this anymore. People saying they care about me but when push comes to shove, I may as well be in that damn grave next to mum's.” Turning to Ron she said, “I'm sorry, I spend every day fighting them about every little aspect of my existence and I can't fight you too. There's not enough fight in me anymore, if there ever was to begin with. And Draco, I really don't have the energy to fight you too. I spend so much of my time fighting them, or playing games, or having to expend so much energy being the Lizzie they want and not the Pansy I am. You two have been the only ones in my life that I have never had to be anyone but myself. And Draco, you know Philip fights dirty and yet you come in here yelling at me, assuming I did something wrong, when all I did was try to make the man I call my father, remember a time that I truly was his daughter.”

 

After waiting several moments for one of them to say something, Pansy fought back the new rush of tears and started to move to her dressing room in order to get the distance she needed to Apparate cleanly away from them, her so-called-life, everything. Not looking their way, she softly said, “One day, someone will explain to me why no one seems to want _me._ Except for maybe the one man who can't call me his own and the woman who loves him and I know loves me.”

 

“Lizzie, don't you dare go to see him,” Draco growled, though her back was to him, she knew he was getting closer to her. “This isn't how you stand on your own two feet; this is running away. Stop acting like a spoiled child and going to the only place you can get to just because Philip is being an arse to you!”

 

“It's not running away Ferret, if no one wants you were you are,” she snapped, not bothering to fight the new onslaught of tears. “I'm going to go see the one person who has truly loved me every day of my life and has never belittled me or questioned me about my choices but instead has only wanted the best for me, wanted me happy – whatever that is – and when the lot of you stop listening, well he doesn’t. I can't take anymore rejection today Ferret, so don't yell at me for going to the one person who freely gives me love and affection.”

 

Breathing hard and gasping through her tears as she stared at Draco who stood frozen in front of her, she continued, “So when Philip finds out where I've gone, you can bloody well explain to him why I went to see Bear. Then remind Philip that I asked him to actually _be_ my father, instead of just claiming to be him.”

 

Entering her dressing room, she closed the door behind her and quickly locked it before Draco could stop her. Grabbing her cloak and gloves, as fists banged against the door, calling her name. She quickly bundled up and Disapperated to the one place she knew that no one could follow her until she was ready to go back.

 

If she ever would go back; now the prospect that not only would Ron not when she finally found the courage to return but to be locked away in the Lair until she was forced to walk down an aisle just to make Philip happy.

 

 


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11– The Truth In Forgiveness

 

When the world reappeared, all Pansy could see for miles around was the beautiful countryside. Rolling hills decorated with life; trees struggling to cast the last of winter off their branches in order to be born again; grass stretching to the sky, turning even greener. She smiled at the sound of birds chirping in the distance and the feel of the constant cool breeze on her skin -the magic that came with Avalon. Most of all, she reveled in the peace of heart that it bestowed upon her every time she walked through the gates.

 

Ahead in the meadow, several yards from the gate where she stood, Pansy saw her destination: a small, two-story stone cottage with a crimson door and smoke coming out of one of its two chimneys. She hadn't taken but a few steps, when the front door opened to reveal Bear's wife, Mags who was dressed in a pair of tan jodhpurs and a white men's oxford. Her hair was much like Draco's in that the colour was so fine and pale that it was more the colour of platinum than actually blonde. The intricate braids in which she kept her long hair tied up in appeared like works of art as they sparkled in the late afternoon son. 

 

“I thought I heard you approaching,” Mag's lyrical voice called out as it drifted along the breeze. “It's been awhile since I last heard your footfall here.”

 

“I know,” Pansy called back as she moved closer. “I apologize for not visiting sooner.”

 

“So what brings you to Avalon?”

 

“I needed to be around someone who cared about me.”

 

Mags silently studied her for several minutes before saying, “What did Philip do now?”

 

“I can't seem to appease him anymore...That's why I haven't been by in a while, I kind of needed to pick my battles appropriately” she admitted, ashamed to admit her motivations for not having come to visit two of her favorite people in this world.

 

“So what's changed to bring you by now?”

 

Pansy shrugged her shoulders and replied dejectedly, “Just decided to give up.”

 

“Come here Princess,” Mags whispered softly, holding her arms out. Pansy didn't have to be asked twice before she flung herself into those arms. When they wrapped around her, she let the tears flow again as Mags held her, whispering words and sounds of comfort.

“One of these days, Philip will remember we aren't the bad guys,” Mags whispered, pushing her back  once her tears had subsided; Mag's hands reaching to cup her face as her thumbs explored. Pansy watched as the woman's smile gently curved across her face with a hint of sadness though it reached up towards her soft, distant, grey eyes before she continued, “However, I am finding myself rather interested in the fact that there is something different about you. I'm sensing something has changed you. For the better, I might add.”

 

“Are you sure you haven't talked to my mother, Mags? She said something similar earlier today.”

 

“Don't give me that cheek little one. You know your mother and I haven't spoken in years, and in pleasant terms even longer. But there is something in your voice that gives your heart away, so are you going to tell me what's changed, poppet?”

 

Sighing, Pansy softly said, fighting back the tears, which had reappeared as she thought about what she had lost today, “Doesn't matter really as I really screwed it up. I'm afraid everything will be back to normal when I go back.”

 

“And why do you say that? I think you are underestimating the change I can hear in your voice.” 

 

“I may have opened my big mouth and planted my foot squarely into it,” Pansy muttered, staring intently at her feet.” I doubt he will forgive me for what I said today.”

 

“That's all?” she remarked with an incredulous sound to her voice. “One errant comment is enough to end your new world? Do you realize how many times my darling husband does it in a week?”

 

Pansy cocked her head to really look at Mags, “Didn't you just hear what I said?”

 

“Darling, I'm blind not deaf. I think you are underestimating, how much this change has affected you. Now that being said, Bear and I have always thought that one of your more endearing qualities is that you do only stick your foot in your mouth when someone hurts you. In fact, I doubt that there is a person in your life that doesn't realise that about you.  ”

 

“Oh.” Pansy softly whispered, staring at her feet again. A shame coursing through her as she stood there, realising for the first time that she may have over-reacted when Draco and Ron confronted her earlier.

 

“anyway, I know I'm not the one you really want to talk to; he's out there with her,” Mags whispered, patting her face. “Chin up poppet. I know you have your daddy's fight and your mum's spirit within you, whether or not you remember. Just do me a favour and don't give up on this change yet. It may surprise you, if you let it; if you let yourself live.”

 

“Mags, what about the curses?” Pansy knew her voice sounded pitiful but she desperately needed the reassurance; that if she was going to fight for this, outright disobey not only her father but everyone else who protected her, that it would be worth it in the end; that the inevitable pain would be worth it.

 

“What about them?” Mags gently said, kissing her on her forehead. “They aren't preventing you from having these bits of happiness are they? Or even simply caring for what I'm realising is a person who has entered your life?” 

 

“No,” Pansy whispered.

 

“Then I don't see why they matter at all, though you will need to tell him about them. It's only fair that you be upfront with him about what you can and cannot give him freely.”

 

Tears welled in Pansy's eyes as she hugged Mags tightly, whispering, “Thanks Mags.” 

 

“You're welcome poppet,” Mags whispered hugging her back. Pushing her away she said, “Now go and listen to him tell you the same thing.”

 

Pansy smiled and nodded before heading towards the woods that sheltered the graves of all who came before her.

 

After weaving her way through the thick grove of trees, she came to the protected meadow that held her ancestors' graves. She hung back in the shadows of the tree line for a moment until her eyes found Bear amongst the sarcophagi that lined the sacred river flowing through Avalon.

 

His long, black hair glistening in the sun, radiating its unnatural bluish colour as it hung loosely in waves down his back. His tight pants and long duster coat were brown – either from dirt, dust, or were just that colour, Pansy didn't know.  She did notice that he had shaved his beard signaling that spring had arrived. That thought brought a smile to Pansy; she had always loved spring in Avalon.

 

Stepping out of the shadows, she started towards the sarcophagus belonging to her mum with Bear just inches away, studying the sculpted face, his fingers caressing it's every line. As she drew closer to the man who loved her as he should, Bear turned his attention away from the grave and towards Pansy. She always wondered how he could sense her presence from so far away.

 

“Come to visit your Mum?” his booming voice echoed through the meadow. 

 

Shaking her head, she replied, “Actually, I came to see you.”

 

“Well here I am,” he laughed, holding his arms out. He bowed deeply and with a large smile on his face, he joyfully asked, “What can I do for you your Highness?” 

 

“Oh do shut up!” she replied, slightly put out. She wasn't in the mood to deal with being teased -even if it was from Bear. However, anything else she was going to stay evaporated from her mind as her eyes inadvertently landed on  the sarcophagus she hated most of all in the meadow.

 

She didn't know how long she stared at the sleeping face before Bear's voice gently said, “You were always a pretty child. Still are to be perfectly honest.”

 

“Thanks. But we both know that you are biased,” she replied, biting her lip and continuing towards Bear.

 

Bear didn't respond immediately. She had almost reached him when he said softly, patting the seat next to him “That bad of a day poppet?”   

 

Still biting her lip, she just nodded.

 

“So what did Philip do now?”

 

“Why do you think he did anything?”

 

“Only reason you ever stop over there,” he said softly, while pointing to the offending sarcophagus. "Like you would rather be there, than here."

 

Pansy took a seat next to him in front of her mum's sarcophagus and nestled into his side. He wrapped his arm around her and squeezed her gently. “Spill poppet?”

 

“I just feel like I'm supposed to follow his lead blindly; even if it makes me miserable or unhappy. I hate that he thinks he knows what's best for me without actually listening to me. Mum never followed the circle's lead like Philip expects me to, did she?”

 

“Are you kidding? There isn't a person in this world who could tell you mother what to do and get away with it. Not even Philip, and they were thick as thieves most of their lives. So don't you believe him, if he tells you otherwise.”

 

“Actually he prefers to use her as emotional blackmail, when I act out and go against his wishes.".

 

“You know I wish you hadn't told me that,” Bear growled. The sound echoing out of his mouth, suddenly reminded her how  her childhood nickname for the man with the funny  name actually stuck to begin with, for it wasn't his full 6'5 frame that dwarfed anyone who came to close to him. “He has no right to do that to you. It's bad enough that you never got to know her properly.”

 

“Sorry,” she whispered, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. “I assumed you knew as it seems to be his favorite tactic as of late, ever since I turned down that position with the Harpies at Christmas. He just  ...well I hate...Bear, I miss my knight and he doesn't appear to want to see me or listen to me. The divide between us just keeps getting bigger and deeper. ”

 

“I hate to hear that. You two used to have such a strong bond” he whispered, wrapping his arm back around her and placing a kiss on her head. “But it gives me an excuse to pop him next time the opportunity arises. Though I've never really needed one in the past. Maybe I can find a way to let Draco have a shot? What do you think about that?”

 

“Just make sure I'm in the room, promise?” Pansy said with a sad laugh, turning her best puppy dog-eyes towards him, pleading as best she could.

 

“Promise,” he laughed, squeezing her tight to his body. “Anyway who cares what Philip thinks? You are a grown woman now. Tell him to worry about his own life.”

 

“Would you believe I actually asked him to do that today but didn't get anywhere?”

 

“How did the avenging knight counter??”

 

“He's currently working on trying to arrange a marriage for me because my not-so-brilliant mouth snapped at him to either arrange a marriage or let me, Lizzie, go.”

 

“Wow. That's impressive even knowing you as well as I do,” Bear whistled. “I can't believe you would bait him with that though.”

 

“You aren't the only one.”

 

“So I now have this sneaky feeling that it didn't end there.”

 

“Nope. The onslaught of blows just continued. Me throwing something his way and he would counter with something even lower and then I would counter...well you get the idea,” she said shaking her head, staring at the grass surrounding her sarcophagus.

 

“I sometimes wonder how his brilliant mind works – verbally sparing with you like you are school children at Hogwarts.”

 

“If you ever figure it out, can you let me know?”

 

“Deal. So outside of -Philip living up to his reputation, what else has been going on since your last visit?”

 

“I stumbled upon a bit of happiness.”

 

“Something other than your potion set?” he laughed, squeezing her again.

 

"Yes."

 

"So what have you found?"

 

“It's not a what. It is a who....Or was a who. So don't get too excited,” she warned him, her voice started to crack as she thought about going home and sleeping in her bed without Ron. “I doubt he will be there for me to hold onto when I return from here.” 

 

“Why is that?”

 

Pansy shrugged and sighed. “Draco informed him of my little comment about an arranged marriage. And he realized that I hadn't told Philip about seeing him.”

 

Bear grabbed her arms and spun her where she sat. Incredulously, he asked while searching her eyes for confirmation of what he thought she just said, “You … you have a boyfriend?”

 

“Had a boyfriend is the better term,” she whispered, blinking back the tears that had started to burn in her eyes.

 

She felt his hand cup her cheek affectionately, patting it before saying, “Never thought I hear that word out of your mouth. Especially one that Philip didn't force down your throat.”

 

“You aren't the only one.”

 

“So do you think this is why he's suddenly all about getting you married?"

 

“I haven't told him out right that I have been seeing someone, but I'd have to be a fool not to think he doesn't have his suspicions. I think he may even had an idea as to who it is. However, I don't think he's realised how happy this young man has made me because that would require him to see me, since everyone else has noticed the change in me,” Pansy replied, looking at her feet. “Unfortunately, I'm afraid if I tell him I'm dating someone, then I'll have to tell him exactly who I've been seeing and he may very well kill Draco when he finds out and lock me away in the Lair."

 

“So Draco knows who you are seeing?”

 

She nodded. Silence fell over him as Pansy waited for what she had just told Bear to click in his head. All the implications of what she didn't say...exactly...

 

“Please tell me it's not someone in the circle,” Bear groaned, before leaning over and rubbing his face. “And for Merlin's sake, please tell me you didn't take after you mum on this one.” 

 

“Worse,” she whispered, looking at him out of the corner of her eye wanting to gauge Bear's reaction, figuring it would be the best way to judge how bad Philip's reaction could be. Because she knew Bear would love her and support her no matter what, she just wasn't so sure anymore if the man she called her father would.

 

“I somehow doubt it could be worse than your mum's situation. Damn near tore the circle apart.”

 

“Oh, try Arthur Weasley's youngest son, Ron,” she sighed. 

 

“Lizzie,” Bear sighed, shaking his head. “Philip's going to lose his mind over this. I seem to remember him forbidding you from ever pursuing relationship with Arthur's sons. I'm sorry poppet, I know you don't want to hear this, but you've got to be an adult about this and tell Philip...But whatever you do, please don't tell him by yourself; at least have Persephone there, if not Draco.”

 

Silence fell over the glen as Pansy sat there taking in the reality that her worse fears would be realized if she told Philip the truth about the goings on in her life the last couple of months.

 

“Okay,” she whispered, feeling the burn in her eyes. “What am I going to do?” 

 

“So do you think Arthur knows? Or even Harry?”

 

Shaking her head, “I don't know.  Mother thinks I've been seeing someone. She is encouraging me to bring him around and not hide him from Philip or the rest. ”

 

“Kind of surprised Persephone would say that; given that she is usually the first to try and avoid that temper of his."

 

"Tell me about it," Pansy responded, staring at her mum's sarcophagus. "But both she and Mags remarked about some change in me. I don't know if that has anything to do with it or not."

 

"And here I was thinking that this change I've noticed in the past few minutes was all in my head."

 

"Not you too." She couldn't help but whine. The more people remarked about the change in her, the more she felt left out on an inside joke shared in her presence.

 

"Me too," Bear simply said before adding,”

 

“I go back and find that Ron can't forgive me. He leaves and gets back with that Granger twit, while I'll go on with my lonely existence and eventually settle into an arranged marriage because we all know that I don't have enough fight in me to last against Philip once he sets his mind to something,” Pansy shrugged trying her best to act unaffected. She knew she was failing miserably, as tears started to run down her face with the realisation that that scenario was the last thing she ever wanted. “Or I go back and Ron somehow finds it in himself to forgive me. I then tell Philip about the relationship, and watch him kill Draco for disobeying his orders... Either way I don't win. I either lose Ron or Draco. And I don't even see why I have to lose either one given how happy I've been the last few weeks.”

 

“Sounds like a situation Philip would put a person in: you can't win either way. But, I don't know what to tell you poppet. I think you are going to have to do what your mum did in the end: make a decision and stick to it. No matter how much it hurts you. Draco knew what he was getting into, if he encouraged your relationship. I doubt he stuck his head out for you against Philip for no reason.”

 

Pansy knew Bear had a point regarding Draco but she couldn't get past what he said about her mum –how she made a decision and stuck to it, though it hurt her. Whispering, she asked, “But what if I think she's a bad example to follow?” Her eyes, looking ever but at him. 

 

Bear didn't respond immediately. Her eyes went down to her boots and she continued, “I either lose the man I've come to care about deeply or my best mate who has been through hell with me. And mum... well, we both know she just gave up and gave in to a piece of magic. A bloody piece of magic, that ruined all of our lives... that's not making a decision, Bear. It was suppose to make everything better but hell, look how it turned out anyway: all the lies we tell everyone...I have a father, but I really don't, oh no I really do but he can't claim me because it's better for me somehow....and then there's Philip and Persephone trying to kid themselves most day...and all the hurt that has to linger between you and Mags...and Draco? Draco having to live with the consequences of a silly piece of magic before we were even born. Now more than ever, I think sometimes, we have started to believe all the lies we have created and maintained. Everyone believing that we are happy with what happened when all of us just stare at her portrait and see pain, heartache, and misery. None of our lives turned out like we wanted. Yet, we all do our best to keep lying to ourselves – that what we have is what we really wanted.”

 

“How...I mean... What...” Pansy turned her head and watched as Bear stuttered in surprise and shock.

 

“I'm not an idiot Bear,” she said with a sigh, holding up a lock of her own hair. "This," tugging at the lock, "this is fairly obvious. Not many people have natural blue-black hair."

 

“So how long have you known the truth?”

 

“I was five. I overheard an interesting screaming match when someone had had too much to drink and she hadn't had quite enough. After that, their fights made much more sense. As well as all the fights between you and Philip. Though I still haven't figured out what's not being said between Persephone and Mags.”

 

“Do Philip and Persephone know that... you might know everything we've tried to keep from you over the years?”

 

“What do you think?”

 

“Do you plan on telling them one of these days? It might make everything a bit easier on you when you tell Philip about Ron.”

 

“I hadn't planned on it,” Pansy replied, with a shrug of her shoulders. “We've all lived with the consequences for so long I always figured it no longer mattered. Who wants to relive the incident that led to where we are all now. 

 

“You know everything don't you?” his voice strained as he whispered.

 

Taking a deep breath, she turned her head to look at him. “Every sodding detail of what happened between you and mum, from that stupid spell to Philip choosing me over Theo in the end. And given that I was the fallout of that incident, I still managed to come out relatively well adjusted.”

 

They sat in silence for several moments before Bear asked, “So are you planning on dropping anymore bombs on this old man?”

 

“Well since we are at it, how about one more?”

 

“What do you mean there's more?”

 

“I kind of won my last argument with Philip with quite a low-blow -even by his standard."

 

“What did you say to him?” Bear sighed. 

“I may have asked him to let me go,” Pansy whispered.

 

 "Lizzie, how could you? Even if you know the truth, how could you ask him to do that? After all he's done for you and been through for you, for your sake. I don't like the arsehole but that may very well be inexcusable on your part.”

 

“I know,” she snapped, looking up at her mother's sarcophagus “I already promised Persephone that I would apologize. So we can move on? I just figured you needed to know, since I doubt this latest disagreement between me and Philip is over yet."

 

“I appreciate that. So how did she find out about what you said?”

 

“You'd be proud of me; I was actually up front about it. She caught me in the hallway after I had left Philip and I ‘fessed up to saying that in our conversation. . She wasn't happy about it either; Persephone just kept trying to remind me that he loved me. I just told her that it didn't feel like it anymore. That I wish he would stop acting like my father and simply be him instead.”

 

Pansy waited for Bear to tell her what he always told her: that Philip did loved her, even if it felt like he didn't. They all did. They just wanted what was best for her and that they were human after all and were bound to make mistakes. Her situation was tough on them all. Maybe even tougher than it was on her. Because there was always going to be one thing that none of them could give her. But he didn't say that, he didn’t say anything. The loud, boisterous man, sitting beside her was quiet.

 

She turned her head to look at him and was taken by surprise to see tears in his eyes. 

 

“Bear,” she whispered. Then she realized exactly what she said, “I'm sorry. It's just that he can't be Philip and my father anymore...It's too hard...”

 

“Don't worry about me poppet. Philip really needs to hear you say that.  It just hurts to hear you say it though -that you feel the need to ask someone to be your father, especially when you know you have one,” he whispered, pushing back her hair that had fallen in her face as his voice trailed off. 

 

Silence fell over the glen again. Pansy just stared at her mum's sarcophagus. Flicking her wrist, crimson and gold day lilies sprouted up around the grave, brightening up the white stone.

 

“Can I ask a question of my own?” Bear asked, breaking the silence.

 

“Sure.”

 

“What has made you so scared of you being who you really are? Besides Philip. If you know everything, _why_ hide anymore?”

 

Pansy whispered back, knowing that for the first time she genuinely meant the words she was uttering in response. “I'm not scared of who I am. I mean there are times, I wish I only had one identity but I've gotten used to having two names.”

 

Bear snorted at her. “Sounds like I didn't ask the right question. What _are_ you scared of? Why are you lingering here?”

 

"I'm scared that he won't be there when I go home,” she whispered, fighting back tears. “I'm scared that he will never forgive me. I'm scared that Draco will have to pay because I found someone who made me happy. I'm scared that I'm going to lose one of them due to the circle and their rules. Rules that, I'm slowly coming to realise, are more of a prison than the prison I was condemned to suffer in this life.”

 

“If it means anything, I think you are overreacting,” Bear said pulling her back to him. “I think you should talk to the young man first and then plan you next move. If he's anything like Arthur, which I can't imagine he isn't, if his oldest brother is anything to go by, it's going to take a lot more than a few hurtful comments to scare him away. Especially if he cares for you even half as much as I think you care for him.”

 

Pansy sadly smiled. “It's not that easy. Remember you are talking to the pro at hurting people who care about me. Especially when I'm hurting myself.”

 

“It __is__ actually that easy. No matter what anyone tells you. It's not being able to swallow your pride that usually hampers people,” he said shaking his head at her. “So stop being stubborn about this and listen to me.

 

“I absolutely love and adore the woman I married. Nothing in this world hurts me more than to hurt Mags so I do my best not to. That doesn't mean I'm not fallible and from time to time do a tremendous job in hurting her. I know you can think of one time in particular. But she loves me enough to forgive me when I do something stupid, insensitive, rude or all of the above.”

 

“But the curses?” 

 

“What about them?"  

 

“He needs someone who is free to love him back. That's what’s right at the end of the day isn't it?”

 

“And do you want to be that someone?”

 

“You have no idea Bear,” she whispered as she started to fight back the tears.

 

“Then I don't see what the problem is,” Bear said standing up. “What no one ever tells you is that love is really a choice. It's not something magical or mystical, in spite of that little spell that ruined our lives. Love' is a choice made by two people. If you choose to be with him, choose to make him happy, choose to care about him, chose to make him a part of your world – then that is enough.

 

“Philip and Persephone are not going to be happy, I told you this before but I know you need to hear this now. Not later,” he continued, standing up, “You said you thought your mum didn't make a choice but she did. We all did – in the end, I chose honour and Mags. Your mum chose duty, while Philip chose her.

 

“Go home Lizzie and apologize to him. Make him forgive you,” he said, planting a kiss on her forehead before turning and walking away from the graves and disappearing into the woods.

Pansy sighed and stood up, looking at her mum's sarcophagus, letting her fingers drag slowly across her mum's face, trying to remember how her skin actually felt under her fingers. She found that she couldn't.

 

Closing her eyes, she turned around and with a flick of her wrist caused love-in-idleness to shoot up around the grave she hated so much; the one by her mum's. Pansy wondered, momentarily, what Bear would say to her next time he saw her.

 

Blinking away the tears, that had started to fall again, she Disapperated discretely into the car park behind her flat; wanting to see who was actually in her flat. The last thing she needed was to Apparate into her room and an ambush. Walking up to the front door, she felt like the crimson door was mocking her. Beseeching her to enter the lair that she knew her flat had become in her absence.

 

Taking a deep breath, she began praying that Draco wasn't home, as she opened the door. She really wasn't in the mood for being attacked by him yet again, knowing that she would probably snap even quicker than the last time if he tried to engage her.  Even though she knew he had every right to attack her, she just didn't want him to.

 

Putting her cloak in the wardrobe, she realised how lucky she wasn't today. There in the wardrobe hung every single one of Draco's cloaks. Reminding her that he was lying in wait for her somewhere in their shared flat. She finished hanging up her bag and cloak and slowly moved into the kitchen, anticipating Draco's attack.

 

Upon entering the kitchen, she saw Theo and Draco sitting at the table, their feet resting on the table while Draco played with a Snitch. Evidently, the gods really hated her because it was obvious that they were waiting on her to get home. Had been for sometime, if the takeout boxes on the table were any indication. 

What she really wanted to do at this very moment, though, looking at the two men who were staring at her, was to go upstairs, owl in sick from work tomorrow and hide from the world a little longer. She continued through the kitchen without a word, hoping they would just leave her alone.

 

“I was wondering when you were going to come home," Draco's voice finally breaking the silence. “In case you are wondering, I haven't mentioned your disappearance to Philip.”

 

“Actually,” Theo slowly spoke, “you should be thankful that Draco is so attached to the process of breathing.”

 

“So why are you here then?” she snapped, pointing to Theo.

 

Theo looked at her with bored indifference and drawled, “I happen to have been in the neighborhood, as a favor to Persephone and thought I might keep Draco company as he waited out your disappearance.  Wanted to make sure he didn't do anything rash, with Philip in the mood he's in, and go and get himself killed.”

 

“And?” Pansy knew there had to be more. There was always more with Theo.

 

“Well that, and he also owes me 200 galleons. He can't pay up if Philip kills him.”

 

Pansy glared at them both. Turning on her heel, she stormed her way out of the kitchen and through the front palour. She knew nothing would get accomplished with all three of them in a fool mood; it wasn't worth her time.

 

“I would like to talk to you,” Draco called out to her.

 

“As would I.” Theo also added.

 

“Too damn bad,” Pansy called out, heading up the stairs. "I'm not in the mood to deal with you two and I know bloody well that the feeling is mutual."

 

“You do know there's only room for one spoiled child in this flat and I prefer to be it. It's not a very good look on you otherwise,” she heard Draco say.

 

She didn't bother with a response and continued up the stairs. Unfortunately, she heard Draco's footsteps behind her.

 

“You know you can't ignore me forever.”

 

“I'm not ignoring you. And it’s hardly been forever.”

 

“Then what are you doing?”

 

“I just don't have anything to say to you at the moment,” she turned to call down the stairs. When she turned back around, to continue back up the stairs, she found herself standing in front of Ron, who was seated on the stairs.

 

“So do you have anything to say to me then?” he asked smoothly.

 

__Where was a hole in the floor when you needed it__ , she thought.

 

She mumbled to her shoes. “I'm surprised you are still here.” 

 

“Actually, Ron and I discussed it at length, after you high tailed it to Avalon, and decided that there is plenty more to say between the three of us,” Draco replied. “Starting with, why you told your father to arrange a marriage for you when you have been clearly seeing someone and furthermore, why you haven't told Philip about dating Ron.  Granted I might not deserve an explanation, being the hired help, but your ‘boyfriend’ here sure as hell does.”

 

 

 

Still looking at her shoes, she softly said, "I just wanted him to stop interfering in my life, so I called him out with the one thing, I thought he would refuse to do, what he promised me he would never do to me again."

 

"But that doesn't explain why you just won't tell your father about me or us?" Ron said with an aggravated tone.

 

Quietly, she admitted, “Because if he found out I was dating you, he would lock me away in the Lair and afterward, he would more than likely use the killing curse on Draco... He can confirm that for you, if you don't believe me, so could Theo actually.”

 

“Over a bloody boyfriend? The same man who is trying to arrange a marriage for you at the moment?” Ron growled.

 

“We don't like it much either but it's the truth Weasel,” Theo’s voice called out from somewhere below. “Now Pansy, tell him why? Who aren't you allowed to date?”

 

Softly, Pansy whispered, “You and your brothers, well...I'm not allowed to pursue a romantic relationship with any of you. Daddy's orders.”

 

“Why? Because we were nothing more than poor, blood-traitors? Is that it? We aren't good enough for the Slytherin princess?”

 

Pansy's head shot up, tears in her eyes.  “I'm not going to dignify that with an answer.” 

 

She pushed passed Ron before he had a chance to react and started to run to her bedroom. She was halfway up the stairs, when Ron called out, “We aren't finished yet.”

 

“I don't care,” she yelled back, her voice cracking from the tears she was forcing back.

 

Running into her room, she slammed the door hard and came to rest against it. Sliding down the door, she curled herself up in a little ball and cried into her knees.

 

“He's a nice man. Reminds me a lot of Arthur really." The sound of her mother's voice caused her to freeze where she sat. 

 

“What are you doing here?” Pansy asked softly as she picked her head up. 

 

In the soft glow of the fire, Pansy saw her mother resting on the couch facing the door to her bedroom suite. She was dressed more casually than usual. Her hair pulled up in a ponytail and she had casually dressed in a white button down with heavy necklaces and jeans with a pair of high-heeled boots. There was something entirely different in her mother's countenance and pose, in the casual attire and atmosphere. Something rebellious and defiant, two words that she never associated with her mother before. 

 

“Same reason that there are now three young men on the other side of that door -wondering why on earth you chose to tell your father to arrange a marriage for you? In fact, I'm even more confused as to why you did such thing after meeting the young man who obviously cares for you very much."

“I don't know why everyone is making such a big deal about him calling me on my bluff. It's not the first time we've done this.”

 

“True," her mother responded softly, "But given your obvious aversion to dating these past few years, Philip is being your father. He's not calling your bluff Lizzie. You gave him two choices earlier: either he let you go or arrange a marriage for you. What did you honestly think he would pick, given those two choices?”

 

For the first time, since she had fought with him earlier that day, she understood what she had done wrong. Pansy wiped the tears from her face, "I wanted him to let Lizzie go. That's what I still want."

 

"He's not going to do that love and it's foolish for you to keep thinking he just might."

 

"But why not? We all know it's over."

“Come here,” her mother patted the couch. Pansy slowly got herself off the floor and went over to where her mother was sitting. Lying on the couch, she placed her head in her mother's lap, like she used to do when she was younger. "Just because everything we all knew died with your mum that day, doesn't mean that any of us can extinguish the hope that it's not actually gone. We still have you love and your father swore to protect you until his last breath. As his daughter, I know it's hard for you to see him all the time but I do know he is trying to do his best to be the father, we all knowingly denied you."

 

“Pansy didn't say anything. Instead she waited for her mother to continue but she just sat there quietly continuing to stroke her hair. After a few moments, Pansy was finally brave enough to admit, “I want to live my own life without fighting him every step of the way and that's all we seem to do.”

 

“You know he just wants you happy,” her mother replied, stroking her hair. “That's all anyone wants for you. That's all I want for you.”

 

“Then why does everything I do make him unhappy?”

 

“Because you come off as being so determined not to actually live. You don't date. You don't willingly hang around anyone who isn't Draco, Theo, Blaise, or Greg. You hole yourself up in that lab of yours fifty, sixty hours a week at a minimum. You refuse to adhere to any of your social responsibilities unless we bribe you or force your hand. You have no hobbies. And if we let you, I doubt you would go anywhere that isn't this room or that bloody lab. We want you happy and it's obvious that you aren't," her mother said, her voice rising with each statement that Pansy knew was true. But to have someone actually say it to her; it was like cold water being thrown on her. "So as your parents, Philip and I have done everything we could think of to see you willingly smile again. Whereas I've taken a hands-off role, for the most part, your father hasn't."

 

"But –"

 

"What he does with you is no different that how he is with Daisy or Dahlia but you choose not to see that. You chose to make him out to be a monster, day in and day out, regardless of the sacrifices he has made for you. Sometimes, I think you both are to oversensitive to the behaviour of the 'normal' father-daughter relationship the two of you have because your relationship was founded partially on choice and the rest by force."

 

Suddenly feeling very little at the moment, Pansy whispered, “What am I suppose to do now?”

 

“I think a little honesty will go a long way with him. Frankly, I've always hated how well your father taught you to lie and tell half-truths. You do it too well for your own good. And for the most part toward your detriment.”

 

“You know it’s to keep me safe.”

 

“From what?” her mother sighed. “Lucius Malfoy? He will never be able to touch you again, Draco won't allow it anyway.”

 

“But--”

 

“No buts Lizzie. It's time you realise that your father and the others have tampered with your life as thoroughly as Lucius did all those years ago. You have paid the price from all their good intentions as well as all the bad ones they refuse to let you forget.

 

“I know you and I have this deal but I'm going to pull the mother card. Draco and I both know you really care for that young man who is outside this door right now. Do the right thing; bring him to lunch on Sunday. Don't hide him or how you feel about each other from your father, his father, or the others.”

 

“But what about--”

 

“What about it?” her mother cut her off. “If it bothers you that much, tell him the truth. If he's still around after everything you put him through today, then I think he can hear that from you. You've let your father and the others’ influence govern the way you make decisions long enough. It's time for you to grow up Lizzie.

 

”Remember that your mum's death was unintentional. Not even Lucius planned on killing your mum that night.”

 

Her mother didn't say anything more and Pansy didn't press her. Pansy laid there as her mother continued to stroke her hair while she silently tried to wrap her mind around everything her mother had just said as well as everything Mags and Bear had said. Pansy didn't know how long they sat there in the darkened room.

 

“You know there is a young man outside that door that deserves an apology from you.”

 

Pansy sat up. “I know. I just don't know what to say. Or how to say it.”

 

Her mother's hand cupped her face, and she whispered gently, “I'm sorry is usually a good starting point. A lesson that took me years to learn.  That and it's better not to sit on an apology.” 

 

Pansy smiled softly and nodded her head.

 

Her mother kissed her forehead as she rose from her seat/ “I'm off to see if I can convince your father to stop this nonsense about an arranged marriage for you.”

 

“Thank you,” Pansy cried out, jumping up and wrapping her arms around her mother. “Thank you for everything.”

 

“I'm always here for you. I've always been little one,” she whispered in her ear, before turning and walking away. “Don't forget me when he hurts you. I know that I told you earlier that it hurts me when you hurt each other but it still should stop you from coming to me when it happens.”

 

When her mother opened the door, Pansy could see Ron leaning against the balustrade obviously waiting for her. His arms crossed and shoulders squared as he stared at her. She watched her mother say something to Ron, that softened him momentarily, but she didn't catch it. Pansy was too focused on him. She just heard her mother tell Theo she was ready to go home as her heels clicked down the stairs.

 

Pansy stood there in her bedroom looking at him, fighting back tears. Ron didn't move, he just stayed where he was, looking at her. 

 

“You mother seems really nice,” he said finally breaking the silence, pushing away from the balustrade and entering the room. “Not quite the person, you led me to believe she was.”

 

“I know.” Pansy's voice cracked as she continued to fight back her tears.  “Look, I'm...”

 

“Leave it.”

 

“What?”

 

“Just answer a couple of questions for me. That's all I want anymore.”

 

“Anything.”

 

“Why am I and my brothers forbidden to you?”

 

“I thought Draco would have told you.”

 

“He wanted to, but I wouldn't let him. I want to hear it from you.”

 

Pansy didn't know what to do: she could tell the truth, tell something closer to the truth, or lie. Her instincts were telling her to lie, that it was the only way to keep Ron but her mouth wouldn't cooperate.  Taking a deep breath she whispered, "I can't do a marriage bind. Not a normal one anyway. And Weasley's have this reputation..." She couldn't help her voice failing her at the moment. 

 

"I really don't understand. If you can't do one, then why the arranged marriage."

 

"There are ones I can do. Just not the normal ones people use these days."

"And why not?"

 

"Got hit by a curse when I was a little girl. Nothing can be done about it."

 

Silence fell over the room, as she didn't know what to say to Ron that wasn't just answering any question he head. She just waited, her head down, to hear his footsteps walk out her door and down the stairs. Instead, after several moments, she heard him ask, “And Draco's comment about him lying to your father was protecting me as much as you?”

 

“I think he wanted to give us a chance. And he knew Daddy would have put an end to it as soon as he found out.” 

 

 

“So in spite of knowing your father wouldn't approve, you started something with me?”

 

“When we started I thought we would just be friends,” she confessed. “But then I realised I liked the way you made me feel. So I decided I wanted whatever time I could have with you. To feel what I did with you, for as long as you would want me in your life. I hate to say this but when we got together, a part of me actually thought that you would go back to Hermione because in the end I really wasn't what you wanted.”

 

“Did you lie on my birthday?”

 

“I don't understand,” she asked puzzled, biting her lower lip.

 

“Am I what you want?”

 

She let the tears roll down her face as she nodded. Though her blurred vision, she saw him move to her. Before she knew it, he had picked her up and wrapped her in his arms causing her to really start bawling into the crook of his neck.

 

“I'm so sorry Ron,” she sobbed over and over again as he hushed her, rubbing her back as he just held her.

 

 

 

 


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12 – The Lair

 

_She could do this_ , Pansy kept telling herself. _She could go to lunch with her parents all by herself. Without Draco. And she would be fine. She wouldn't stick her foot in her mouth. She could be an adult._

_She could do this._

_She could do this._

 

She kept repeating that mantra over and over again, as she surveyed herself carefully in front of the floor- length mirror. She couldn't see a wrinkle anywhere on her short-sleeved, navy blue shirt dress with its flared skirt. Her red belt and peep-toe heels matched perfectly. After spending the entire morning trying to coax her hair into curls, she had given up – it now fell down her back, past her shoulders, in waves. Pansy had pinned the sides back with silver and ruby combs, just as her mother preferred. Puckering her lips up one more time, she inspected her work to make sure that she had applied the ruby red color perfectly. 

 

Taking a step back from the mirror, she took a deep breath, grabbed her matching red silk clutch and headed out of her dressing room. However, that breath quickly skipped away, when she saw Ron rise from his seat on the couch to greet her. His long red hair was tied back with a simple leather tie. He had also shaved which disappointed her; she had loved the scruffy texture his face had taken on in the past few days. Instead of jeans and a jumper, he was dressed in dark grey wool slacks and a deep forest green button down with French cuffs silver cuff links. Pansy didn't think she had ever seen anything more beautiful in her life. And he was hers, she reminded herself with a smile on her face.

 

“About time, I was starting to think that I was dating a girly-girl after all,” he said laughing. His blue eyes twinkling as she gawked at him, unable to hide her overwhelming physical reaction to him at that very moment.

 

Her mind went into overdrive wondering if she could get away with being late to her parents' house for lunch. Certainly her mother would, at the very least, understand why she was late.

 

“P?” Ron asked, confusion laced in his voice, drawing her out of the fantasy world she was slowly slipping into.

 

“Sorry,” she responded shaking her naughty thoughts out of her head. “I think this is the first time I've seen you in anything but jeans and a jumper. What’s the occasion?”

 

“Lunch at your parents' is at one, isn't it?”

 

“I don't understand.”

 

“I'm going with you.” 

 

Taken aback, she gave her head a brief shake before dismissing the idea with a simple, “You don't have to. It's only lunch.”

 

“Then what's the problem, if it's only lunch?”

 

“Ron,” she said moving towards him, “this is sweet, but it will be better if I go by myself. Let me straighten out everything with my father first, especially after all that happened this past week. How about you come with me next Sunday?”

 

“Why don't we straighten everything out together?” he told her, taking her hand. “Anyway, the car is already here so we don't have time to argue about this at the moment.”

 

“Why? Who put you up to this?” her eyes narrowed. She pulled her hand away from him as they were exiting the bedroom. 

 

“No one put me up to it,” he sighed, grabbing her hand and forcing her to follow him down the hall.  “Seeing as your mother invited me. Anyway, Draco mentioned that he thought us going to lunch together would be beneficial to the both of us.  There was also an off-handed comment about me needing to protect your mother's china, but you are going to have to explain that to me in the car.”

 

“I'm a big girl and quite capable of handling my father myself without smashing up my mother's china and crystal during a tantrum,” she was feeling a little more than a bit put out by now having two brothers she never wanted. To emphasis her point, she stopped on the stairs and refused to go any further. She did, however, suppress the sudden urge to stomp her feet. Barely.

 

Ron sighed as he turned around. The difference in their heights now lessened due to him being on a lower step; allowing them both to look each other in the eye without strain. Ron started, “I'm not saying that you can't handle your father by yourself. Neither is Draco by the way - though you are really not proving to me that you can stop yourself from destroying your mother's china and crystal at the moment.”

 

“Then what are you saying?” her eyes narrowed, as she started tapping her foot. 

 

“Remove the bloody glamour,” he softly ordered, meeting her stare.

 

She huffed a 'fine' as she complied. “So what are you saying then?”

 

“Bloody hell woman,” he argued, his voice taking on a firmer tone, “I'm trying to do something nice for you as well as trying to support you after the week _we_ have all had, and you are being  stubborn. Didn't it ever occur to you that I might want to do this? That I might want to meet your father?”

 

“Don't go all Gryffindor on me. Why would you want to walk into the lion's lair? No one's that insane,” she retorted with a hollow laugh.

 

“Lion? Don't you think that is a bit extreme? Your mother appears nice and you had her painted as Brunhilda.”

 

“You haven't met my father.”

 

“Not yet, I haven't. And if you don't stop arguing with me, then we will be late,” he informed her. He took her hand again and forced her to continue down the stairs. “I've been told that your father is more punctual than you are. So being late will not make a good impression. This is something high on my priority list, if his legendary temper is anything to go by.”

 

“And how would you know about his temper?”

 

“Strangely enough, not from his bloody daughter who I've been sharing a bed with the past couple of weeks, but from her bloody best mate. Care to explain that one?” he snapped.

 

He was right, she mentally conceded the point. She just felt a bit too stubborn at the moment to actually say it out loud.

 

She continued to follow him down, though she really didn't have a choice in the matter, and continued to argue with him, “You know, you coming with me will not make a good impression on my father regardless if we are on time or not.”

 

“And why is that?” he coolly replied. To Pansy's frustration, he continued to move down the stairs and to the front door without any hesitation. 

 

_Damn Gryffindors,_ she mentally screamed.

 

“Because I frankly don't know how my father and his legendary temper will react when I introduce you – regardless if I introduce you as my boyfriend or not,” she fussed, still trying to get him to let go of her wrist. “I would rather you let me go see him by myself this time and gauge his reaction before adding you to the fire of his brimstone.”

 

He spun on her at the very moment, his angry blue eyes staring at her. He grabbed her around her waist and pulled her to him. “And I'm still going with you. The rest of this argument will have to wait until we get home. Until then, introduce me to your father  anyway you see fit, but if it is anything but your boyfriend, I can assure you the fight that will be awaiting you will be  nothing you have ever experienced. ”

 

Checkmate. Pansy knew he had her dead to rights.

 

Rendered speechless, her mouth opened, Pansy just stared at Ron. She hadn't taken into account that there was somebody on this planet that would challenge her decisions in such a way that she would have no argument. For the first time in her life, she realized she just lost. And if she wasn't careful, she was going to lose him too. 

 

“What is this really about? You are being more stubborn than even what is typical for you,” Ron softly growled, breaking the silence that had fallen over him as his eyes narrowed studying her. His demeanour unexpectedly changed right before her eyes; his eyes and face no longer firm and determined had softened. Pansy had no clue as to what had triggered this change but it was making her uncomfortable.

 

Pansy squirmed as much as she could in the position trying to free herself from Ron's arm. “I told you...”

 

“There is something else,” he interrupted her, loosening his grip on her. “I've could've sworn I saw your eyes flash colours. Is there something you aren't telling me?”

 

“No. I just don't want to throw you into the lion's lair,” she restated, avoiding the second question because she knew he had to be imaging things in the heat of their argument – there was no way her eyes could have flashed colours, especially without the glamour on. “This is me protecting you from my father. You have no idea as to how bad his temper is. Draco's more scared of him than he ever was of Lucius. And that is saying something.”

 

She felt his hand come up to her face and run his fingers down her jaw. “That's not it. You are avoiding something. What is this really about?”

 

“I told you...”

 

“Lizzie,” he gripped her jaw and forced her to look at him. “Talk to me.”

 

“Ron, I'm really not joking about his temper.”

 

“And I'm telling you it will be okay. So what is this about?”

 

She whispered, “Please, I've disobeyed him in a major way. And when he finds out, he will hit the roof. Let me take his anger today, he won't do anything to me. I promise, regardless of what Draco may have told you otherwise. I just can't promise that he won't do anything to you in the fallout.”

 

“How can you ask me to stay here, now that you have told me that?”

 

“Please,” Pansy softly whispered, managing to free her arm enough to touch his face. “That's why Draco really wants you to come. He doesn't trust my father not to lash out at me in some way, shape or form. I promise you, he never has and never will hurt me physically. Unfortunately, no one else alive will ever be that lucky.”

 

“You mean Malfoy is setting me up?”  
  


“No, you aren't listening. Draco doesn't trust him. Hasn't since we were kids. He probably thinks I'll be safer if you are there if he isn't – that there will be someone to protect me,” Pansy shook her head as she spoke. “I'm probably the only one that believes that all my father will do when I tell him about you and us is yell at me. I promise you, I'm not naïve enough to believe that it won't be bad; I just know it will be loud and vicious, but that we will only hurt each other verbally.”

 

“How many times do I have to tell you, I've fought a war? Please stop trying to protect me. Let me help you here.”

 

“I know you've fought a war,” Pansy looked at him studying his concerned face. “I just don't want you to have to fight another one on my account, especially one involving an overprotective father who almost lost me once.”

 

“And this one is worth the fight because you are worth fighting for. Remember that,“ he whispered, kissing her on the forehead. 

 

Ron took her hand back securely in his hand, and led her through the kitchen and out of the house without another word. Part of her knew she should fight him about this but she didn't know how. For the first time, she realised just how dependent she had become on Draco. She just didn't know how to stop. 

 

Ron gave her a soft smile as he helped her into the back of the Phantom that her parents' had sent around. She returned his soft smile but other than that she remained quiet, silently praying that her father wouldn't overreact as she worried about how she could protect Ron.

 

For once, she grew increasingly uncomfortable with the silence as the car ride progressed. Every so often, she turned her head to look at him, to find an excuse to say something, anything. However, his focus appeared to be on the scenery as they transversed London, though he absentmindedly rubbed her hand that he was holding. 

 

“Ron,” she whispered, taking his hand, stilling it within her grasp. “I'm sorry.”

 

“I know,” he whispered back, squeezing her hand. “I just wish you would stop trying to protect me. We are in this together, remember.”

 

Taking a deep breath, she confessed softly, “I know. I just didn't and don't want to pressure you into anything – given everything you've been through since I became a part of your life.”

 

Ron turned to look at her. He didn't say anything at first as he reached up to touch her face, then he softly asked, “Will you do me a favor?”

 

“What is it?” she whispered.

 

“Stop thinking about me first in our relationship. You are a part of this too. I know you don't want to do this but this is something you have to do.” he whispered, placing a tender kiss on her lips.

 

The opening of the door brought them back to reality. 

 

“Ready for the supposed lion's lair?” Ron playfully asked her, brushing her curls off her shoulders to hang down her back.

 

“Not really but I don't really have a choice do I?” she smiled back, wiping off lipstick residue from Ron's lips. 

 

“Nope...You might want to put the glamour back on by the way,” he told her sliding out of the car. “Might as well not add fuel to the fire if we don't have too.”

 

“Oh, right.”

 

Taking his proffered hand, she exited the car with a quiet, “Thank you.”

 

“So how wealthy are you?” he discretely whispered as he guided her to the front of her parents' stately city home in Kensington, complete with a rare private park.

 

“I can buy and sell Malfoy a few hundred times,” she said with a teasing grin on her face, “which is quite convenient when I want something from him, or want him to do something. He's rather expensive. And seems to grow even more so with every passing year.”

 

Ron gave a low whistle. “I didn't realize there was a Wizarding family with more money than the Malfoys.”

 

“Who said anything about my family?” she asked off-handedly, as they walked up the stairs to the front door. “I mean, the Parkinsons have a fair bit --” her voice trailed off when she realized that Ron had stopped in his tracts. As he still had her hand in his, it forced her to turn around, falling back a step. Looking at him puzzled, “What?' 

 

“What did you say?” his bright blue eyes wide, concern and fear flitted through them. 

 

“About what?” she asked looking at him puzzled. She had no idea what she said that would affect him in such a way. He wasn't scared to meet her father but he suddenly seemed unnerved by her wealth and status; two things she had done nothing to hide from him.

 

“You...Your family...I don't understand.”

 

“Understand what?”

 

“Just how much money do you have?”

 

“More than Malfoy,” she said, bringing her hand up to his face. “I don't understand what the issue is because I've never hidden it from you.”

 

"But you distinguished yourself from the Parkinsons..." 

 

"Oh," Pansy said, not entirely sure what to say next. She hadn't planned to explain _that_ today and definitely didn't know where to start. After a few panic-filled moments, she quickly said, "My mum's estate came to me upon her death, so I made sure my father's estate goes to the others." In a round about way it was the truth.

 

“So why are you with me?”

 

“Why wouldn't I be?” 

 

“I will never be --

 

“All of this means nothing,” she whispered, interrupting him before he got any further. “I'm still the same girl who likes to play with my potion set at the Ministry and am never been happier than when I'm with you.”

 

“Are you sure, I mean...” Ron's voice trailed off.

 

Nodding her head she answered, “It means nothing to me whereas you mean everything.” She planted a light kiss on his lips. “The lion awaits.”

 

Taking his hand, she led him into her parents' home. She was impressed how he held himself together as they entered the large double doors that had been opened upon their arrival. Pansy remembered the first time that Draco had stepped into this house. He had been beside himself and he had grown up in the illustrious Malfoy Manor. However, Ron appeared to take it in stride now.  In fact, Pansy thought he looked like he belonged there as much as she ever did among the wood, art, glass, furniture and fabrics that decorated the large entryway.

 

Pansy watched her mother gracefully came down the center of the main staircase, following the Persian carpet that lay upon it. Her blonde hair was pulled up and rested gracefully on her head. She was dressed as was typical for Sunday lunch: a knee-length skirt in a bold colour – this week it was a kelly green; a neutral sweater set; a pearl collar made up of two strands of white pearls; and simple heels that matched the sweater set. A pleasant smile grew on her face as she floated down the stairs.

 

“Good afternoon Mother,” Pansy called out in her most pleasant and proper tone, gently squeezing Ron's hand for reassurance. “Thank you for extending the invitation for today to the both of us.”

 

“You’re welcome,” her mother replied coming close enough for her and Pansy to kiss each other’s cheeks in greeting. “I suspected you would need more than a gentle suggestion on my part to bring the young man you've been seeing. How are you today, Ron?”

 

“Very well. Thank you,” he answered taking her proffered hand.

 

“Did she give you too much trouble?”

 

“Nothing I couldn't handle,” he said with a grin, taking Pansy's hand again.

 

Her mother's smile grew even more. “Good, that means at least one of us is capable of handling my spoiled little one.”

 

“Mother,” Pansy whined, her cheeks turning red out of embarrassment.

 

“She's only teasing, love,” he said placing a chaste kiss on the top of her forehead.

 

“I don't like you two anymore,” she snapped petulantly, tapping her foot.

 

“Yes you do sweetheart,” her mother responded gently, tapping her cheek. “You've just forgotten what it's liked to be teased, so please stop tapping your foot. It's rather irritating. Why don't you go collect your father from his study while Ron helps me open the wine for this afternoon's lunch?”

 

“Yes mother,” she replied, planting a quick kiss on Ron's cheek. She giggled as she had to wipe off the residue before he escorted her mother into the parlor where they had lunch when her sisters weren't in residence. 

 

Turning, she walked towards her father's study just a little bit down the hall. She was about to enter his study, when her father opened the large double doors.

 

“Hello Daddy,” she said standing on her tiptoes to kiss him on his cheek. She quickly went to remove the smudge of lipstick on his cheek, making a mental note never to wear red lipstick again to lunch with her parents, before continuing, “Mother asked me to fetch you. Lunch is ready.”

 

Her father narrowed his eyes and looked her over. “Who are you and what have you done with the cranky little brat I call my daughter?”

 

Pansy softly smiled as she took his arm. “And here I thought that this change was what you were wanting in me and of me.”

 

“It is. I'm just wondering what has occurred to bring about this abrupt change in your attitude and behaviour.”

 

“I need to apologize for my behaviour last week. I was out of line; I shouldn't have baited you as I did. I do apologize and I am grateful that you are no longer pursuing an arranged marriage for me.”

 

“I know you don't believe this most of the time but your mother and I have always only wanted what was best for you.”

 

“I do know that Daddy,” she sighed as they walked towards the parlour. “However, I just want a bit of freedom to live how I choose.  I need you to not question every decision I make. In return, I'll work on not hiding behind Draco and be more forthcoming with what is going on in my life.”

 

“I know I'm guilty of forgetting you are all grown up now because you are still my little girl and will always be my little girl,” he said kissing the top of her forehead. 

 

“Daddy,” she said stopping him just outside the doors to the parlour. “I'm not a little girl anymore. You need to trust me to take care of myself.”

 

“But...”

 

“I'm not saying that Draco has to move out,” she started quickly. “What I am saying is that you have to trust me to protect myself while still allowing me to find whatever bits of happiness I'm able to grab onto. Even if you do not approve of what I choose.”

 

Her father started to nod his head but stopped. He narrowed his pale blue eyes at her and looked her up and down. “There's something different about you.”

 

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” she huffed without thinking. “You'd think I grew horns out of my head or something.”

 

“Who's saying that?” her father growled reaching out to grab her. “And why hasn't anyone told me?”

 

Stepping away from her father and out of his grasp, she gestured wildly with her hands. “This is probably why Daddy. You have this horrible tendency to jump to the worst possible conclusion when I'm involved. May I remind you that just minutes ago, you liked the change you saw in me too.”

 

“Kettle meet cauldron.”

 

“We've established that many a time Daddy. I am your daughter. Whether we remember that most days or not.”

 

“So are you going to explain to me what is going on in your life? And who else knows about it, so I can remind them who is in charge.”

 

“No,” she replied with a shrug. “I made them promise me not to tell you...”

 

“Lizzie,” he growled. “Of all things...”

 

“But I am more than happy to show you what is going on in my life. What is making me happy,” she retorted quickly knowing her father was at his wits end at the very moment. She opened the doors to the parlour, revealing her mother standing with Ron. “As you can see I brought a guest to lunch today. Don't worry; I've already extended my apologies to mother for the intrusion. Daddy, this is Ron Weasley, my boyfriend. Ron, this is my father, Philip Parkinson.”

 

“As in Arthur Weasley's son?” her father's growl caused Pansy to jump and stare at her father. She didn't know what to expect but she hadn't expected his displeasure to erupt so quickly. Pansy had fully expected him to seethe through lunch first before erupting.

 

“Yes sir,” Ron replied moving closer to her father. “His youngest to be exact.”

 

Pansy's eyes never left her father as she watched his complexion grow redder and his blue eyes grow stormy and dark. She shuddered as she stood by her father – this was going to be worse than she thought.

 


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13 – Fighting Sacrifice 

 

Everything happened so fast.

 

One minute, Pansy was on top of the world. She had abruptly, at the last minute, found the courage to tell her father about Ron. Before she had turned to stare at her father, her eyes had been on her mother who couldn't hide her pride as evidenced in the smile on her face and the light in her eyes. Pansy was proud of herself. She couldn't remember the last time she really stood up to her father without being absolutely immature about it in the process.

 

The next minute, though, Pansy was pulled out of the morning parlour by her arm as her father quickly mumbled an excuse that she didn't quite catch. She saw Ron take a step towards her but her mother kept him back with a hand on his arm a whisper Pansy couldn't quite make out. 

 

Once the doors to the parlour had shut, he threw her into the entryway.  A quiet clicking noise, as well as the rush of magic she felt, added to the nightmare she was quickly finding herself in. Mentally, she started praying that the inevitable fight between her and her father would only remain a shouting match and nothing more. Pansy was afraid that the magic she had felt had cut off everyone, including and most importantly Draco from her. Draco's and Bear's words of not being alone with her father when he found out, came back to haunt her at that very moment.

 

When they had cautioned her, she had just figured that they were overreacting; neither one being her father's biggest fans and vice versa. He had never done anything to harm her physically. However in this moment, Pansy just wasn't sure anymore that he wouldn't harm her today; the first time she had knowingly and willingly disobeyed him.

 

It was only when she hit the large round table that sat in the middle of the foyer, knocking over the antique Tiffany vase that her mother kept there filled with roses, did Pansy regain her balance. Unfortunately, she watched in horror, as the vase shattered into a million irreplaceable pieces, spilling Black Beauty and Sterling roses along with their water over the Chippendale table and mahogany floor.

 

“I can't believe it. How could you Lizzie?” her father roared, his head looking up towards the ceiling and his arms outstretched.

 

“How could I what?” she yelled back, finding more of that elusive courage from somewhere; though she was unable to turn and actually face him in her defiance. “You are acting like I've committed some horrible offense, when all I have done is brought home a boyfriend?”

 

“You didn't just bring home a boyfriend. You brought home a _Weasley_! What was going through your bloody mind when you started a relationship with him? ” Her father's booming voice echoing through the foyer. Each sentenced punctuated in his boiling anger.  “I seem to remember telling you _explicitly_ to stay away from every single one of Arthur Weasley's boys? Didn't I?”

 

“Yes you did!” she screamed, mainly in frustration as she pushed back off the table and spun around to face him. 

 

“Then why are you introducing the youngest one to me as your boyfriend?”

 

“Because that is what he is: whether you like it or not; or approve of it or not. I am beyond caring anymore. You want me to be happy and _he_ makes me happy.”

 

“How long has this been going on?” he roared, putting his fist through the closest wall. 

 

“How long has what been going on?” she sassed, moving away from the table but still making sure that she kept several feet between them.

 

“Your relationship with one of Arthur's sons!"

 

It took her a few minutes to grasp onto her fading courage to reply truthfully to her father.

 

“Only a couple of weeks,” Pansy said her voice suddenly meek; half in fear, the rest in terror of his reaction.

 

And for good reason.

 

“Of all the bloody stupid things you have done in the last few months, this has to take the sodding cake!” he yelled, stalking towards her.

 

“Why? He's a good man. He's kind, loyal and hard-working. Besides that, he is a war hero and has a solid job helping his brother run the most popular store on Diagon Alley,” she pleaded, tears welling up in her eyes affecting her voice as she continued taking a step back every so often to maintain the distance between them. “He’s everything you would want for Dahlia and Daisy in a boyfriend. Please just let me have this, have him, because I’m your daughter and not simply your charge.”

 

“You know I can’t do that Lizzie! And I won’t. _I won’t_ ,” he yelled back running his hands through his hair causing the ends to stick out a bit, actually giving him the appearance of a lion. After a few tense moments, he continued, “What is this really about? Is this about me disapproving of you staying at the Ministry instead of taking the position with the Harpies? It is, isn’t it? So sorry for wanting you to find a life outside of that bloody lab you insist on hiding in!” 

 

Pansy let out a scream of frustration, before continuing, “No _Father_! This isn't about you. This isn't some stupid job. This isn't about that bloody Harpies! This is about me – the one you call _your daughter_. Or am I that in name only to outsiders these days?”

 

“How dare you,” he grounded out moving towards her again, albeit quicker this time. “Whether you like it or not, you _are_ my daughter!”

 

“That is who I am trying to be,” she hissed back her eyes narrowing, trying desperately to hold her ground against his advancing but conceding every time he got too close for comfort. “I bring home a boyfriend that _any_ father in the Wizarding world would love their daughter to bring home and you yell at me. Accuse me of doing some horrible injustice to _you_. What do you want from me? To be some mindless puppet you control? Live how you want me to live though it will make me miserable? I won’t do it _Father_ , I won’t!”

 

“I have told you time and time again what I want from you -- all I want you to do is to stay away from Arthur's boys! Do you understand me? No good will come from it and you know it!”

 

Pansy huffed, trying to move away from him again. “I seem to remember that you didn't trust me about Draco and that turned out just fine. ...I'm not ending my relationship with Ron because you said so. If we end our relationship it will be because we decided to do so – not because of some misguided third party who keeps swearing they have my best interests at heart but fail every time when called to action.”

 

“You ungrateful little shite!” he hissed, his eyes narrowing at her while his face took on a reddish colour from anger.

 

“Better than the arrogant bastard you are!”

 

“Oh, I'm arrogant. That's great Lizzie,” her father let out a hollow laugh that sent chills through her bones. “Kettle meet cauldron. There is nothing in this world more arrogant than bringing a Weasley into this house and flaunting him as your boyfriend to me of all people. But I especially cannot wait until the circle hears of who you are dating – especially Arthur. We will just see who the arrogant one is then, when he calls you to the rug on this one.”

 

 “They aren't the ones I call my parents – that privilege I only extend to you and Persephone.”

 

“They matter Princess. As much as Persephone and I do. We've all put our lives on the line and sometimes on hold to keep you alive as charged.”

 

“So where does running my life fall within your charge?” Pansy retorted, feeling her anger grow inside her as she flung her arms in the air in frustration. “I'm now an adult for Circe's sake. Treat me like one.” 

 

“Act like one and we just might.”

 

“And maybe I should just remind you all of your place, instead of passively allowing everyone to keep tampering with it in the name of good intentions, Philip.”

 

“Philip? It's Philip now?”

 

“That is your name, isn't it?” she growled through her teeth. “Or are you going to start acting like my father again? Or maybe, heaven forbid, you should do as I asked you a week ago and just _be_ him. Be my father, Philip. Just make up your sodding mind and let me know who you want to be in my life so I can address you appropriately.” 

 

“You know two can play this game, Your Highness,” he growled back, his angry tone heavily laced with sarcasm, before executing a deep bow in her direction. “But this humble servant would like you to explain what you were thinking when we all have told you time and time again to stay away from the Weasley's for your own well-being.”

 

“Because Ron Weasley makes me happy," Pansy retorted defiantly, planting her hands on her hips while tapping her foot. "I mean isn't that what you want to hear? Isn't that what all of you want to hear from these lips? I'm happy.”

 

“But it's Arthur Weasley's son!” he growled back. “And stop tapping your bloody foot.”

 

“I know that!” she yelled back, frustrated and confused; spinning as she turned around to walk away from him. She couldn't remember ever having such a circular argument with him ever. Spinning back around, she advanced on him and continued, “Merlin, we keep going in circles. Give me one good reason why I should throw away this piece of _my_ happiness to make you and the other eleven happy.”

 

“How about the one you seem to be ignoring – because Weasleys _only_ make love matches!” he screamed back grabbing her arms with both of his hands. “Do you hear me Princess? _They **only** make love matches!_ Please let me know where that leaves you?”

 

Any fight left in her disappeared that instant, as she stared at him; feeling the effects of the cold dose of reality that washed over her painfully. Pansy had never thought about _that_ when it came to Ron. She found herself partially glad that his arms where still holding onto her or else she would've fallen to the ground in a heap.

 

“It's nice to see you finally start listening to me,” he coolly said, removing his hands from her arms as he turned and walked back towards the parlour. Pansy wasn't quite sure how she managed to remain standing after his hands had left her.

 

“Don't be an arse,” she retorted and softly whispered, wrapping her arms around her; in a foolish attempt to try and hold herself together. “Smugness isn't a good look on you.”

 

“And stupidity is not a good look for you. I thought you were smarter than this.”

 

“I'm not going to dignify that with an answer,” she snapped, backing up away from him when he turned back around to face her.

 

Her father's eyes narrowed as he studied her. “I believe Draco knows about your relationship with Ron, does he not?”

 

“And if he does?” she replied, standing her ground, her courage reasserting itself. Her father had another thing coming if he thought she would sell out her bodyguard even for him; especially after what he and the others had done to him years ago.

 

“That stupid, foolish boy; I knew he was a bad idea from the start. No one's been able to trust a Malfoy in more than a thousand years. Mags notwithstanding,” her father marveled as he moved back to the parlour. “Hopefully you will make a better decision this time, now that you are older and supposedly wiser. You should choose someone like Theo, for instance, this time. He's a good young man and will do as he is told.” 

 

Pansy just stared at her father. Absolutely incredulous as to what he just implied with that statement. Letting out a hollow laugh, she cruelly retorted, “Wow, Philip talk about kettle meeting cauldron.”

 

“What are you talking about young lady?” he snapped, spinning back around to face her.

 

Cocking her head, she nastily replied, “Hearing you tell me to 'make a better decision' while mentioning Theo in the same sentence. Talk about arrogance Philip. Would you mind too terribly if I tell him what you just said? Merlin knows I would love to see his face when I tell him you offered to sacrifice him, for the sake of me – _again_.”

 

Pansy enjoyed every second that she stood in the foyer and stared at him while giving him her own version of Draco's impressive, condescending smirk. She stood there and watched his face turn so many shades of red as he struggled to keep his tongue in check for the first time today. Pansy found satisfaction that he knew that she had bested him in the end. 

 

“Lizzie,” her father coolly began still trying to reign in his temper. “You have ten minutes to get Ron Weasley out of this house and Draco in it. After that, please consider yourself a resident here until further notice. I'll let Kingsley know that you won't be in to work until you come to your senses about adhering to your responsibilities and obligations.”

 

She had been trying to prepare for this moment all week, knowing the very demand her father would make. There had been countless sleepless nights as she pondered her choices and all the pros and cons of each choice she could make. Now that the moment was finally here though, she found her decision was surprisingly simple and easy, without any lingering doubts. 

 

Pansy had always thought the she would have to choose between Ron and Draco; however she never thought that her father would make her give up both. He had another thing coming if he thought she would without a fight.

 

“No,” she replied firmly, shaking her head defiantly.

 

Her father quickly spun back around. His eyes narrowing, watching her as if she were nothing more than prey he stalked back to her before growling, “What did you say to me?”

 

Taking another deep breath to settle her raging nerves, she said more firmly, “I said no. If Ron leaves this house then so do I; neither one of us to grace your presence again. And I will order Draco to never step foot in this house or be within 50 feet of you again. Remember Philip, he only answers to me.”

 

“Are you openly defying my authority?” he growled, grabbing her arms again.

 

Her own temper rising inside her, she hissed as she pulled away from him and out of his grasp. “Actually I believe I am reminding you of your place. You will no longer interfere with my relationship with Draco or Ron. If I get hurt by being with Ron, then that is my choice. He is my choice. Live with it Philip.”

 

Without warning, an intense pain abruptly radiated through her body. She grabbed at her chest and screamed; briefly catching her father's eyes widen in a strange combination of surprise, fear, and concern as he moved back towards her, calling out with affection that she hadn't heard in years, "Pumpkin." 

 

A loud pop echoed throughout the foyer effectively deafening her and stopping him in his tracks –

 

"Philip!"

 

Draco. 

 

"Get away from her!"

 

The pressure in her chest increased as the pain grew into even stronger pulses, causing her to scream again as she desperately tried to hold onto her chest. 

 

"Dammit Draco! Lower your wand!"

 

"Then get away from her."

 

"No. I was responsible for her long before you were."

 

In her pain-induced confusion, Pansy felt someone push her to the floor under the entryway table. Her body began to burn as a painful fire seemed to radiate into all her limbs.

 

It was the night her mum died all over again as colorful spells lit up the foyer. She had no idea what was going on as she struggled to get past the pain radiating from her heart. Both Draco and her father's voice wrapped around her as bits and pieces of wall, floor, and furniture flew, littering the foyer as they spit at each other with more and more venom. The broken glass from earlier started to swirl around the entryway as well. She quickly turned to her stomach, curling up in a little ball and covered her head with her arms for protection just as the entry way table exploded above her. 

 

An errant spell hit the marble statue of Athena, causing it to explode and hit Pansy with millions of hard and sharpened shards.  Pierced and bloodied, Pansy was brought back to a different painful reality; her instincts told her that she had to get to Ron behind the doors to the morning parlour. 

 

Struggling to get to her feet, she scrambled towards the door, trying to stay as close to the ground as possible. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw a flash of red light coming in her direction. She dove towards the side for cover under the Egyptian Revival settee. Fear overwhelmed her as tears rolled down her face. She struggled to regain some control as another spell bounced off the wall above the settee causing her to scream Ron's name.

 

Ron’s name hadn't left her lips when she realised what she was watching and screamed, “Draco!” as he was hit with a blue flash of light, causing him to crumble to the ground in front of the staircase. 

 

“Daddy!” she yelled, as she pulled herself to her feet. 

 

A loud thud from the morning parlour doors being thrown open resonated through the entryway.

 

 However her eyes stayed with Draco's still body as she screamed again, “Stop! Please stop!”

 

Draco was the only thing that mattered at the moment as she ran towards his body. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her father drop his wand to the floor. 

 

"Pansy!" Ron's yell echoed but again she didn't turn to look. Her focus was completely on getting to Draco and keeping her father away from him. 

 

"Philip!" her mother's voice filled her ears. The words sharp at first before they faded into a stream of garbled tones as she yelled, "What have you done? If you hurt her in anyway, I will kill you myself! Do you hear me Philip? Listen to me dammit!" 

 

“Draco,” Pansy called again, her voice cracking as she ran to him, faint popping noises started to fill in the silence as the members of the circle started to arrive; their greetings piercing through Persephone's screams:.. 

 

"Philip!"

 

"If she's hurt, I'm going to hurt you!"

 

"What have you done you idiot...Ron?"

 

"Ron?"

 

"She's happy damn you Philip. Let her have this!"

 

"Philip! If you hurt her, I will kill you…Ron?"

 

"What the...Ron?"

 

"Say something damn it Philip! Say something!"

 

"Philip! What have you...Ron?"

 

"Da-- Philip! What is going on?"

 

"Persephone, why don't you come with me?"

 

Pansy didn't look to see who had arrived and she barely made out the different voices through all the yells and quiet confused questions; all that mattered in this moment to her was protecting Draco from her father and the others, as she had done since the moment she condemned him to his death.

 

Falling to her knees by his side, she picked up his limp upper body and cradled it to her own. Blood marred his pale features while her tears mixed with the blood as she rocked him: begging him to wake up; pleading for him to stay with her because she needed him, her knight; that she couldn't bear the thought of not having him in her life, he had been too large a part of it for too long.

 

The dull buzz of voices as the circle’s initial outrage faded away surrounded her but she couldn't make out a damn word they were saying.  She continued to whisper words of affection, understanding, love, hope, and trust to Draco while the circle’s conversations settled into hush whispers. Pansy clung to him out of desperation – willing him to wake up as her tears fell on his face – causing the blood to run and stain his hair.

 

“Lizzie,” Ron's soft voice broke her out of her motions. Stilling, she opened her eyes, to find her favorite blue eyes glassy watching her. Silently he pleaded with her before whispering, “We need to get him to St. Mungo's” as he gently ran his fingers along her jaw.

 

"Can't he stay here?" she asked pathetically. "We have the facilities."

 

"No Lizzie. He needs St. Mungo's. That's where they want to take him."

 

“Ron.” It was all she could manage to say at that very moment, unable to fight back the onslaught of tears anymore as they evolved into body racking sobs. She hadn't noticed how still the rest of the room had become as all eyes had fallen upon her holding Draco's body while Ron softly spoke.

 

“You need to let us take him,” he whispered, cupping both sides of her face, forcing her to keep looking at him, holding her head still while her body sobbed. “Please let us take him to St. Mungo's.”

 

“I can't lose him.”

 

“I know Lizzie, but you need to let me get him help. Please let me take him to St. Mungo's.”

 

“I have to stay with him.”

 

“You will. Nott will escort you,” he whispered, stroking her face. “But you need to let me take Draco for now....You need to let go of him, Lizzie.”

 

Realising that his hands were on her arms, she nodded her head and finally let him have his way, though, she was still reluctant to let Draco go. She wiped her face as she watched Ron take Draco out of her lap. 

 

"I can't lose him," she whispered as Theo approached her carefully. She knew she could see her own sadness reflected in his dark eyes, as together, they watched Harry take Ron to her father's office to use the Floo.

 

“Come on Princess, we will follow them over. There's nothing here you need to worry about now,” Theo softly said offering her a hand. Taking it, she let him help her up onto her precarious feet. Her heels suddenly became too much after the past ten minutes, but when she made a motion to remove them, Theo stopped her.

 

“What?” she asked, looking up at him.

 

“It's not safe...” he started to say, motioning to the glass scattered on the floor, but when he looked at her directly, his face with it’s normally sharp, inquisitive features softened. Cursing under his breath, he swept her into his arms and carried her towards her father's office. “You know he's going to be fine; always has been stronger than he appears, you know that.”  
  


“That's what I'm hoping for,” she whispered, burying her head into his shoulder.

 

Theo softly teased, “Do you honestly think he's going to let you get rid of him this easy? He's as committed to you as you are to him.”

 

“I know. I just can't stand the thought of losing him.”

 

“Then don't think about that,” he replied with a no-nonsense tone, she had always associated with him. “Think about all the firewhisky and play toys he is going to cost you the minute we move him back into the flat. He might try to see if he can actually break your bank. There's a new Ducatti he's drooling over; thinks he can beat you on it.”

 

“Please stop trying to make me feel better Theo,” she whispered though she was secretly glad of the effort he was putting in for her sake.

 

“Who said I was trying to do that?” Theo replied with a short laugh. “I'm just trying to remind you he's still here.”

 

Theo set her down outside of the doors to the office. “You can take your shoes off now if you would like; no shards in here.”

 

“Where's...” her voice trailed off as she didn't know what to call her father to the rest of the circle any more. She knew what she wanted to call him but she also knew that no one would appreciate her doing so until the dust settled from today.

 

“Arthur and Bear are with him in the parlour now,” Theo replied as she used him for balance while she removed her shoes. When she finished, he wrapped his arm around her, holding her tight to his body as he escorted her to the fireplace. 

 

“You do know that he didn't hurt me.”

 

“That's not what it looks like; especially to Persephone and Ron who saw Draco get hit. Pansy, it took Ron a full five minutes to get out of the morning parlour and he was only able to, once he heard you yell his name.”

 

“But Philip didn't hurt me,” she whispered, finally choosing to address him as she knew the members of the circle would want to hear at that very moment. “We were screaming at each other but I had pushed him away from me when this pain erupted in my chest. I don’t know what happened, but it wasn’t him, he didn't touch me or throw a spell at me or anything to cause it. It was so bad that I don't know what happened to cause Draco and Philip to start dueling or who even pushed me to safety first. You have to tell Arthur and Bear that. Please.”

 

“Let's get you to St. Mungo's first.”

 

“Promise me, you will tell them what I just told you,” she pleaded, grabbing his shirt and holding to it tight. “Promise me Theo.”

 

Letting out a deep breath, Theo sighed and nodded, “I will. I promise.”

 

“Thank you,” she whispered, letting go of his shirt.

 

“When we step through, Potter and MacMillan will be meeting us. Please just let them check you out. It looks like you have suffered some pretty nasty cuts.”

 

“Will Hannah be there?”

 

“I don't know. But if she isn't, we will send for her if that's what you want.”

 

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Will you stay with me?”

 

Theo shrugged. “Not now. I need to come back her to talk to the others and then I'm going to go ahead and head Pendragon for a bit to review Draco and Philip's matters for the upcoming week. Then I'm also going to notify Percy for you, telling him that you won't be in for the rest of the week due to an emergency. After all of that, _then_ I'll stop by later to check on you and Draco and relieve Potter more than likely. Till then just behave for them; like you would for Draco, okay? ”

 

She nodded, thankful that Theo still had his head firmly on his shoulders at the moment when she needed it the most. Grateful, she said, “Thank you Theo. For everything... By the way, where's Mother?”

 

“Last I knew, Mags was walking with her up the stairs, trying to calm her down.”

 

“What?” Pansy stopped walking and looked at Theo dumbfounded before repeating, “Mags is with her?”

 

“Unbelievable I know; caused me to do a double-take when I realized just who was going upstairs with her.”  

 

“Wow,” Pansy muttered. She thought it would be a cold day in hell with Hades before Mags and her mother managed to have a civil conversation.

 

“Evidently Philip harming you physically is enough for them to patch whatever happened between them.”

 

“But I just told you, he didn't harm me Theo. I may not know what exactly happened, but I know Philip didn’t hurt me,” she said as she extracted herself from Theo; feeling uncomfortable with being so close to him with the conversation taking this particular turn.

 

Walking quickly she grabbed the Floo powder from the mantle, taking some for herself before handing it to him, she said, “Anyway, I thought you knew what had happened between Mother and Mags. As well as what happened between Philip and Bear.”

 

“Know what?” he asked. Pansy could hear the confusion in his voice though she couldn’t bring herself to look him in the face.

 

“About how this whole set up came to be.”

 

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

 

“Oh,” Pansy said quickly, staring at the fire. “You mean Philip's never told you?”

 

“No.”

 

They stood in front of the fireplace, silently staring at the flames together.

 

Theo broke the silence by softly saying, “Remember Potter and MacMillan are going to insist on having you checked out and cleaned up before either will take you to Draco. Please do us all a favor and don't fight them on this; I doubt they will be above going to get the Weasel if you don't cooperate. And we both know you have tested him enough this week.”

 

She nodded and then whispered, “Thank you Theo. I really appreciate all you are doing now and all that you are about to do.”

 

Pansy stood silently for a few moments and just looked at Theo before continuing, “I don't know if anyone has ever told you but I find myself needing to say this at the moment – Philip really did love your mum all those years ago. No one has ever doubted what he felt for her.”

 

She watched as Theo shook his head, half in wonder and half in disbelief with a hollow laugh. “I want to believe you, you know. I just wished I could, given everything she and I ended up going through when she did finally marry.”

 

“Please believe it,” she whispered painfully. “Or if nothing else, then please believe me when I tell you this -- I'm sorry. It's all my fault really what happened between him and your mother.”

 

“No it's not,” he retorted with a sharp laugh, ruffling her hair. “It happened before you were even born.”

 

“That's just it Theo,” she whispered, staring at the fire. “It and everything happened only _because_ I happened.”

 

Pansy found herself without the courage to actually look at Theo after giving him that bit of information. Instead, she threw the powder and yelled “St. Mungo's,” before disappearing into the green flames of the Floo network. 

 

 

 

 


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter – Heart's Ease

 

“I thought you had left,” Pansy whispered, as she heard familiar footfalls as they entered Draco's private room at St. Mungo's.

 

Her eyes never left Draco's sleeping, peaceful face, as she heard the soft click of the door closing. She didn't have to look to know that Ron had joined her; mainly because he had been the only one brave enough to come this close to her since everything that had happened yesterday. Pansy knew that Ernie, Theo or Harry were close by on the other side of the door, each taking turns keeping guard as part of their responsibilities, but no one had ventured any further since Draco had been settled into the room. They all appeared content to either let Ron handle her now persistent ill temper or just leave Pansy to her misery as she kept vigil at Draco's bedside. She hated to admit it but it did feel nice to be given distance in this situation instead of being smothered all in the name of good intentions by the members of the circle.

 

“I did,” Ron told her as he drew closer to the chair in which she had curled up in. “I went to make arrangements with George. Bill's going to help him with the books for a while and I'm going to take the rest of the week off.”

 

She could hear the exhaustion in his voice but he hadn't complained to her about it. Pansy was so thankful for everything he had done for her since her world had fallen apart only twenty-four hours ago. Ron had simply been there for her when she needed him the most: he held her as they waited for any news while the emergency healers saw to Draco after Ernie had cleaned her up of blood and glass; he made sure she ate the food that Hannah provided when she didn't want to, though Harry had been moments away from forcing the matter; he had gotten her to change out of her blood soaked clothes without much fuss, where Hannah and Theo had failed quite loudly in their own attempts; and finally he escorted her up to Draco's room as soon as she was allowed to enter. Yet most importantly, he left her to be when he first got her into the chair she was still sitting in. Somehow Ron knew that she just needed to be with Draco by herself to start apologizing, in spite the fact that Draco more than likely couldn't hear her. 

 

“You didn't have to do that,” she said weakly, but internally she was thankful that he had. She selfishly needed him here with her.

 

“Yes, I did. My mind wouldn't have been at work anyway. Besides, I seem to be the only one you will listen to at the moment,” he replied softly, gently running his fingers through her hair, pulling it off her face.  "I figure I'd save at least my best mate the trouble of dealing with you which I'm not exactly sure why he's been glued to your side since he arrived at your parent's home."

 

Biting her lip out of guilt, she responded, “Sorry about that.” She wasn't sure what to say about the rest of his comment, so she settled on avoidance which had worked for her so far. She just wasn’t sure if it would work for much longer.

 

“Don't worry about it, though I'm not quite sure why you listen to me and not anyone else.”

 

“Easy really,” she said with an equally soft smile on her face as she lifted it up to look at him. “Because you only see me.”

 

“What about Draco?”

 

“I'm more his kid sister anymore than anything else. No matter what anyone else would tell you.” She gave a quick, hollow, sad laugh as she spoke, her eyes returning to Draco's slumbering body when she realised her carefully guarded secret wasn't going to stay that way much longer where Ron was involved. Any remnant of a smile she had disappeared the minute her eyes fell on Draco’s peaceful, pale face, knowing that before the end of the day he would be all she would have left – if he survived.

 

She felt Ron's fingers touch her hair. Leaning into the gesture, her eyes closed, accepting the simple comfort it provided. Pansy started to hope that Ron would just stay with her for now – quiet as a church mouse – allowing her to wallow in her own misery of Draco being hurt on her account and knowing that she was about to lose everything. However, the silence didn't last long as his voice broke the stillness of the room within seconds. “I do have some bad news for you -- it appears your mother is moving into your flat. And from what I can tell, Nott is too evidently. Something to do with the fact that Draco is here; yet, another thing, I don't understand and no one will explain.”

 

“Lovely,” she moaned, closing her eyes. “The flat will officially become a zoo with mother living there. Did she at least say why she couldn't just go to the country home, if she's that mad at my father?”

 

“Not really. She just said something about wanting to stay close to you in case you needed her.”

 

“Did you remind her she could Apparate? That it doesn't matter if she is there or in my bloody flat.”

 

“Didn't even try,” he sighed. His voice rang with the telling tales of even if he had, it would have been a lost cause and he was too tired to fight her mother as well. “She was very firm in her decision. I couldn't even get a word in with her once she had made up her mind and started bustling about.”

 

“Please tell me she hasn't also commandeered my suite while she is at it?” Pansy whined, her hand reaching out for his to hold.

 

“No, that would be my room for Nott. She is happy with the spare bedroom next to yours for herself.”

 

Rolling her eyes, she sighed and wished desperately for Draco to wake. Her grip tightening on Ron's shirt for support as he held her. She wanted to see Draco's smirk and hear his laugh. She needed him to tease her, to be the brother she never wanted. Feeling Ron's hand slowly combing through her hair made her realize that Ron was probably the only one who really understood how much she missed her best mate.

 

“Did you know that there are forty-seven different ways to bind two people together between charms and potions?” Pansy softly asked, her eyes still glued to the quiet motion of Draco's breath while she held steadfastly onto her savior.

 

“No I didn't,” he replied, pushing her back from him.

 

She started to fight him, not wanting for him to let her go and missing even one second of him before he left her for good, but stopped when she realized that she still had his hand in hers and he was merely moving to the chair she had vacated moments ago. Once Ron was in the seat, she crawled up into his lap, settling into his warmth and comfort. The two things she needed most at the moment; besides him.

 

“Of those forty-seven ways there are only five that are prohibited with four of those being illegal. Those four have to do with master/slave relationships without explicit consent from both parties; the other is a charm simply known as the _Mors_ Bind,” she whispered into his shoulder, not entirely sure if she wanted him to know about Draco's death sentence, though, she knew he needed to know. It was simply time after everything he had seen yesterday, she just hoped he would stay with her in the end.

 

“A death bind?”

 

“That would be it. Technically, the full name of it translates into 'Oath of Death.’ It is one of only a handful of spells that are only prohibited but not illegal. So you can actually cast it without repercussions though it never really made any sense to me. I figure someone, somewhere put it in the same category of an Unbreakable Vow but encouraged people not to use it until it finally became forgotten by the general public.”

 

Silence fell over the room as Pansy continued to look at Draco from her position in Ron's lap, his hand firmly in her own as she rubbed it with her thumb.

 

“Why are you telling me this? And not the bigger issue at hand – just what the bloody hell happened earlier?” he asked softly, with an affectionate kiss on her forehead.

 

“I thought I should explain to you the exact nature of mine and Draco's relationship,” she whispered; fighting back tears that were threatening to fall again, her fears that Ron would leave her began to mount while she continued to ignore the question he really wanted answered. She continued with a whisper so low that she was unsure if he could hear and still not entirely sure she wanted him to, “I figure I owe you that much after yesterday.”

 

“So the two of you are bound? Why?” he gently responded very quietly. Pansy could hear the aggravation in his voice and she didn't blame him one bit -how many people wanted to hear that the person they were involved with was bound to another person? 

                                         

Unable to look at him, she sat up and turned her head back to focus on Draco. She tried to get up from Ron's lap before continuing but he wouldn't let her. With a sigh, she spoke quietly, “The _Mors_ Bind is one of seven protection binds. For centuries, it was primarily used by bodyguards for members of the royal family due to the severe consequences if a bodyguard should fail in his or her duty.”

 

“What consequences?” she heard Ron's voice tenderly ask her, as he pulled her back into his body.

 

She fought him out of shame; however, the exhaustion and stress she was feeling herself – well, she was no match for Ron.

 

Giving in, she let him pull her back into his chest as she choked with tears flooding her eyes. “If Draco fails to protect me then he would suffer a gruesome and painful death.”  She promptly buried her face into Ron's neck, clutching to him again as a lifeline.

 

“Lizzie,” he whispered, pulling her tight against him as he kissed the top of head in comfort and affection.

 

Pansy appreciated the pain she could hear in his voice for he was now only one of the few living persons to know what the circle had condemned Draco to outside of them; and maybe could understand, even a little, just how strong her voluntary commitment was to him due to his involuntary commitment to her.

 

Before she could stop herself, her mouth continued, without first checking with her brain, “It's also the reason that I tried to sell Potter out that night at the Battle of Hogwarts.”

 

“What...Why?” 

 

Pansy felt him grab her and attempt to pull her out from the security of his body but she resisted; instead clinging to him desperately until he gave up. With her head tucked securely against the crook of his neck as she tried to figure out just what to say to Ron.

 

Realising, she had reached her moment of truth: either avoid the subject her mouth had brought up without her brain's consent or tell him everything -every truth behind the lies and illusions. For the first time in her life, her mother's words of encouragement and not her father's words of condemnation came to mind. Condemning herself to a lifetime without Ron, she pulled away from his grasp until she was able to get to her feet. Once there, she whispered, “You see, because of who I am, I’m allowed a bodyguard of my choice, once I turn twelve, from outside of the circle's ranks if I wish. This person, besides having the responsibility to ensure my safety at all costs, the status of being my bodyguard grants them a seat amongst the other circle members; however, they are also the only member of the circle who is completely loyal to me and my orders, whereas the others are subjected to the will the circle, or more specifically who has been appointed as leader, in this case -my father., Philip. 

 

“To everyone's dismay and consternation when it came time to inform the circle of my choice, I chose Draco. Over the course of our first year at Hogwarts, we had become the best of friends. Unfortunately, for Draco, the day I announced my choice to them as a Malfoy, specifically Lucius Malfoy's son, you would have thought the world had come to an end. My father managed to destroy the morning parlour in less than fifteen minutes that day; in front of the entire circle -the only time that everyone witnessed the extent of his temper outside of me and my mother.”

 

Realizing she was getting off topic, she moved towards Draco.  “Anyway, I refused to back down from my choice in spite of their reaction. _And_ I refused to accept who the circle thought would be a better pick, which was Theo by the way – something about following in his father's footsteps, the circle – without my knowledge or my express consent– used the _Mors_ Bind instead of the _Commilitium_ Bind. The _Commilitium_ Bind is the one that my family had been using for centuries to bind the bodyguard or the members of the circle to my family; the one they should have used on Draco that night. I was there when they did the binding —it's part of the requirement for either bind to be cast successfully. Unfortunately for Draco, I had never seen a bonding ceremony before and had no idea that what they were doing that evening was not the _Commilitium_ Bind which I had assumed it was until a few years later.”

 

“The what bind?”

 

“Um, the _Commilitium_ Bind. The person is bound to the family they serve for life; the bind only ends with their death and not the death of the family head that they serve. Until Draco's binding ceremony, the rest of the circle had either been bound to my mother or my grandmother before me. I didn't witness my first _Commilitium_ Bind until the war ended; long after I found out what the circle had done to Draco with my consent."

 

“So how did you find out about the _Mors_ Bind being performed on Draco?”

 

“Professor Dumbledore told me,” she sighed, "Well not explicitly but he led me in the right direction with enough tantalising clues until I stumbled upon the answer myself."

 

“How did Dumbledore know?”

 

Meeting Ron's eyes, she gave a hollow laugh and shook her head and said, "How do you think he knew? He was there. He may not have voted in favour of the circle's action but he didn't stop it either."

 

“Anyway, I don't think he was actually allowed to tell me explicitly what had happened that night. He just told me in passing one day at the beginning of fifth year that I may find the _Mors_ Bind interesting, given my family's extensive history with the _Commilitium_ Bind: the _Commilitium_ Bind being derived from the other.” Pansy fell silent, as her mind drifted that day to the exchange she had had with Professor Dumbledore in the hall outside of Professor Snape's classroom. It was several moments before she spoke again, continuing, “You should have seen the Slytherin common room when I realized what the circle had done to Draco. Unfortunately for me and Draco, Umbridge didn't like my redecorating efforts and as a result we had to serve on the Inquisitorial Squad as punishment.”

 

“So what does this have to do with Harry and the Battle of Hogwarts?”

 

“Draco thought I would end up staying and fighting with the others as most of the circle was involved in the Order of the Phoenix, regardless of what I promised him, so he made me take an Unbreakable Bond – vowing to him that I would find a way out of Hogwarts before the battle began. I think he always knew that there was no way for us to survive if we both stayed. But if I got out and he stayed we both had a better shot of surviving given the choices of his parents.”

 

“So, when the opportunity presented itself, I seized it, without a second thought. I knew Professor McGonagall would never hand over Potter, while at the same time, she would make sure that I was the first one out of the castle.”

 

“Why not just lift the bind and release him?”

 

“We both have been trying to find a way since fifth year. According to every text we can find on both binding spells; you can't release them once they have been placed.   Very few binding spells in fact, can be lifted actually. We gave up looking for an answer after the war; deciding that we would just live with the consequences. Since then we do everything in our power to make sure he survives. Draco is my main motivation to stay as safe as possible; it's the only way I have to protect him. It's funny, actually, the circle always reminds me, every chance they get, that I condemned Draco to his stars but in actuality they were the ones who condemned a child.”

 

“I can't believe they would condemn him to death.”

 

“They did. Didn't trust him; even though he was only twelve years of age when the bind was cast.”

 

“He was how old?”

 

“Twelve.”

 

“They condemned a twelve year old to death?” 

 

“Honestly, before you moved in with us, did you ever see him as anything but as his father's son? 

 

“No.”

 

 “You weren't the only one. The Malfoys have never been liked, nor trusted with regards to my family's safety and well-being for centuries. Mags is barely tolerated and she comes from the French line of Malfoys.

 

“The night my mum died, Lucius had come to my family to arrange a marriage between Draco and myself. From what I've been told, no one was excited about it because the circle believed his greed was the driving force behind the request but he was still a powerful wizard and they felt they couldn't outright deny his request for an audience to present the arrangement.

 

“Unfortunately, my mum was accidently killed that evening with a spell Lucius had cast that shouldn't have been fatal. So in their infinite wisdom, especially when I seem to be involved, all but four sentenced Draco to death when I chose him; Dumbledore being one of those four. An eye for an eye sort of thing...I guess age does not imply wisdom in all cases.”

 

“So how many had a vote?”

 

“At that time - fifteen,” she whispered. 

 

“So who are they? This circle you keep talking about,” he whispered.

 

“They are a group of individuals who are sworn to protect the head of my family. I guess you can say they are all bodyguards but they work as a group whereas Draco can act as lone wolf if needed. For seven of them they have no choice, it's part of the consequences of being either the head patriarch in their family or the matriarch in two of those cases; for the other five, they are given a choice, but the numbers are flexible when my mum died there were fifteen and today there are seventeen,” she started but trailed off as she struggled to gather her thoughts, realising she was really starting to ramble. Trying to figure out the best way to tell Ron just who exactly she was, now that she had revealed that not only did she have a bodyguard but several other individuals who had sworn on their lives to protect her existence including his father and his best friend.

 

“So who exactly do they protect? You? Or your father?"

 

“Me,” she whispered, blinking away the tears still unable to look at him as she waited for him to leave. “I am their sole and only charge.”

 

“And why not your father?”

 

“Well he is the head of the Parkinson family,” her voice broke as she spoke, giving her tears away. “He is just not the head of mine.”

 

“You mean... What... Okay, I don't understand -your last name is Parkinson and he is your father -why wouldn't he be the head of your family?” his voice changed drastically as he spoke. Pansy could hear the increasing incredulousness which only added to her anxiety that the end of her relationship with Ron was on the horizon.

 

“Just like I call Persephone my mother, I call Philip my father –partially due to choice on my part and partially due to the cover the circle came up with after my mum died. Regardless, what matters is that for all intents and purposes, the night my mum died, I became an orphan.”

 

“So what happened to your father?”

 

“My mum had an affair with a married man. I am the evidence of that affair,” Pansy bit her lower lip as she thought about the rest of her answer. “Unfortunately, my father couldn't and would never be acknowledged as my father. My father's identity only makes the entire situation worse. My birth had far more consequences than anything else. However, besides being my mum's two closest friends when she was alive -Philip was the bodyguard assigned to me at birth and Persephone, my nanny; so upon her death, they took responsibility for my care and well-being. Just as Persephone has become my mother in all sense of the word – Philip is my father. He's the head of the circle and has been most of my life.”

 

“Even after yesterday? He’s still the head?”

 

“Like I've told everyone since it happened,” she sighed, exasperated. “He didn't hurt me. Everything just happened so fast without anyone stopping to ask what had happened to begin with; Draco and my father had words but like always, where I'm concerned these days, they didn't listen to each other and I was in too much pain to head both of the raging bulls off. Their mutual distaste and distrust of the other has been a point of issue in the circle for years because they both have this horrible tendency to react without thinking when I'm involved -especially towards each other.”

 

“That's it,” Ron asked roughly, finally moving from the chair and making a motion to grab her but Pansy kept ducking his outstretched arm. After several tense moments, he gave up and pointing at Draco, in an aggravated tone, “You basically forgive him while your best mate and supposed bodyguard is lying unconscious over there?”

 

“What do you want me to do? The world isn't black and white, Ron,” she snapped. “Forsake the man who gave up everything for me: the woman whom he loved and who loved him; their son; and the life he could have had if I hadn't been born.”

 

"Excuse me?"

 

"Philip? He had a woman he loved. A woman he had a child with and planned to marry; both he had to forsake and give up because my mum..." Pansy paused trying to find the right word and stuttered, "Gave up. Gave in. Whatever she did that resulted in her having an affair with a married man. Philip was goaded into marrying my mother for the sake of appearances. So yes, I forgive him; especially given that there is nothing to forgive in this situation."

 

Her anger flashing in defense of the man she considered her father, she continued, “Last week I asked him to stop _acting_ like my father and just _be_ him.” Her tears made a quiet reappearance in her anger. “But not minutes later, I also asked him to let me go. Ron, I asked him to let me – Lizzie – go. The one he gave up everything for all those years ago. I belittled all the sacrifices he made all those years ago out of childish petulance because I want him to be my father in more than just words – like he used to be.”

 

Pausing to wipe away the tears, she continued, “So yes, I forgive him.”

 

Ron fell silent as he finally was able to grab her and pull her now sobbing body into his. Her anger and exhaustion having taken away most of her fight, she ended up burying her face into his chest, tears still rolling down her face. She felt his arms wrap around her as she reveled in the simple comfort being held by him brought her. She knew he probably would never truly understand her motivations of her forgiveness but for the first time she realized that that was okay. That there were actions she would take that would never be understood by anyone other than her and that there was nothing wrong with that.

 

“Is Draco going to be okay?” Ron asked after her tears had dissolved into hiccups.

 

Her voice cracked with tears as she said, “It's a wait and see game until he wakes up. Daddy gave them every spell he could remember casting but even he's not sure which one hit him or if his current state is because of a combination of those spells.”

 

She desperately wanted to change the conversation, not wanting to think of the possibility of her father being responsible for Draco's death if he should die and instead asked, “Did you get everything moved into my suite?”

 

“Actually with everything going on, I figured, I would just move back to...”

 

“Where are you going?” she interrupted, sitting up in his lap, the remnants of her tears instantly gone as she stared at him. She had expected him to leave her, not to stay and then tell her he was moving out. She couldn't lose Ron, not while Draco was lying unconscious in a hospital bed because of her – because she chose both of them over her obligations to the circle and most importantly her family and their legacy.

 

“If you would let me finish first before you say anything – I thought I would move back in Grimmauld Place until I figure this whole thing out. I know there is more to everything than you are telling me." Pansy couldn't stop the guilty look coming over her face as he continued. "I've already spoken to Harry and he is okay with it. It's not permanent. Just for a while until everything settles down and I get you to tell me _everything_.”

 

“Please don't,” she begged grabbing his shirt in her hands. She hated how desperate she sounded at the moment but she couldn't stifle the helplessness she was suddenly feeling. “Please, I can't bear the thought of not having both of you at the flat.”

 

“Like I said, it's not permanent and you will still see me every day because this conversation isn't over. I'm just going to be sleeping at Grimmauld for the time being,” he sighed. Hearing his voice, she could tell he was losing his battle with exhaustion and guilt started to eat at her, knowing she was the cause of his exhaustion.

 

“Please just move your things into my suite,” she rushed, grasping at the opportunity before it slipped away, though she knew it was the wrong thing to do. “There's room in the closet and I won't say a word about Cannons posters. I'd been meaning to say something to you but hadn't had a chance.”

 

“Lizzie,” he sighed closing his eyes.

 

Her guilt finally overcame her as she looked at him and let go of his shirt. The exhaustion and his troubled thoughts etched onto his face. He had always done whatever she had asked of him and now she was acting like a spoilt brat – demanding him to give in to her again. To do what she wanted. What was best for her and not for him. She had forgotten about him and what he may need in all of this.

 

_I guess it’s true what everyone keeps saying about me needing to stand on my own two feet,_ she sighed to herself pushing herself away from his body.

 

Not liking the desperate feeling she was trying hard to subdue internally as she came to terms with the fact she was going to have to let him go, if that is what he wanted. She couldn't honestly expect him to stay – not after everything that had happened or been said in the past twenty-four hours. He deserved better than to contend with the drama of her life. Pansy was going to have to let Ron go and learn to be content with what she had; instead of dreaming of the heavens which she knew she had started doing.

 

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't be a brat about it,” she whispered, standing up from the chair. Ron tried to take her hand but she kept out of his reach. Her resolve to let him go wouldn't hold if she felt his hand upon her. “It's not my call if you move back into Grimmauld Place or not.”

 

“Stop,” he responded sharply. He used her surprise at his tone to capture her hand. “It's not that.”

 

“I don't understand,” she whispered, trying to beat down the hope that was starting to fill her insides.

 

“Do you ever think we moved into this too fast?”

 

“No,” she said confused, trying to pull her hand away from him again. But he wouldn't let go. “I would be lying if I didn't say that the speed in which we moved from friends to lovers is disconcerting when I stop to think about it. But when I look back I never feel that everything was moving too fast.”

 

“I didn't think so either until yesterday,” he responded, trying to pull her back into his lap but she wouldn't capitulate. Instead, she dug her heels in and tried to free her hand. “But then I realized that for the past few weeks we have truly been living in our own little world, away from any judgment or criticism from our friends and families. Now I'm just wondering if your father's reaction is going to be the norm and not your mother's. And are we going to be able to handle the fallout because we moved too fast.

 

"Regardless, I'm realising how much I don't know _you_. And I think that bothers me more than anything at the moment. I've basically lived with you and Draco for how many weeks, only to find out that you are not who you appear to be; in fact, you have not only a bodyguard but bodyguards – who I can't quite figure out just who exactly they are but half my friends and family showed their arses up today and were more surprised to see me than anything else. You have this whole history that I can't make hide or hair out of.”

 

Pansy hated that he was right. That the little world of solace, comfort and peace they had built with each other was effectively gone the moment everyone started to find out. After everything the two of them had been through individually, she couldn't understand why people wouldn't beget them this piece of happiness even if it was unexpected by all parties involved; or simply, why did she even have to be Lizzie. Why couldn't Lizzie just stay dead and she could live as Pansy?

 

“What did Harry say when you told him about dating me?” she whispered, wondering if Harry's reaction had added to his doubts. She wouldn't be surprised if it had as it had taken her and Harry several heated arguments to come to an agreement to co-exist peacefully. Somehow though, she was afraid what little friendship she had with Harry wasn’t strong enough for her to be acceptable for his best mate. Her tears started again as she realised it was true, that her piece of happiness with Ron was more than likely gone forever.

 

“I actually didn't say anything. He just said, 'You and the Princess huh?' after I left Draco with the Healers,” he shrugged, trying to grab her hand again.

 

“That's it?” her eyes widened with surprise. She hadn't expected that to be Harry's reaction to her dating Ron. In her surprise, Ron succeeded and grabbed her hand and moved closer to her.

 

Ron's thumb started to wipe away the few tears that were escaping her eyes. “When I told him yes, he just told me to be careful and take it slow that we had a long road in front of us. He also said something about me being patient with you as this will be harder on you than me.”

 

“So he's okay with us being together?” she couldn't hide the hope in her voice that maybe Ron wasn't going to end their relationship after all.

 

“Well he's not exactly happy but I can't imagine that Draco was happy when he found out about me.”

 

“Actually he was concerned about what would happen to me and to you if we should get into a relationship,” she reluctantly told him, wondering how the bloody hell he managed to ask every question that would result in her answering with something that would certainly cause him to leave her.

 

“He anticipated the fall out?” Ron's voice sounded incredulous.

 

“No,” Pansy whispered pulling away from Ron and moved towards Draco's bedside; knowing it was time to admit the source of Draco's concerns – whether she wanted to or not. She took a seat on the bed next to Draco, taking his hand in hers. Knowing it would be easier for her to say what she needed to say if she put some physical distance between her and Ron. If she didn't, she knew she would probably sacrifice her dignity, throwing herself at him and begging him not to leave her since him leaving her had taken on the most painful route – slowly and inevitable.

 

Her back was to Ron when she finally admitted, “He anticipated you getting hurt in the end...by me.” Pansy knew her mouth formed those last two words, she just didn't think her voice allowed them to be actually heard. So she was now completely unsure if Ron knew just exactly what she said because she couldn't bring herself to look at him.

 

“Some best mate you have,” he said with a hollow laugh. “Why did he think that?”

 

“The night my mum died. While she was trying to get me away from Lucius, he managed to hit us both with the same spell. In fact, the same spell that killed her to be exact,” her voice strained to speak the awful truth of  the night that changed her life forever, as she lovingly brushed Draco's bangs back from his pale face  before letting her fingers trail down his angular features in reverence.

 

“How come...” she heard his voice start but trail off.

 

She quietly finished, “The spell is only known to be fatal in two cases: if the victim is in love with a person already bonded to another or if the victim was bonded to someone who is deceased. All Malfoy spouses are subjected to it. Lucius sought to use it as a weapon to get what he wanted, to create the link between me and Draco where there hadn't been one; more than likely in order to get the match he wanted.”

 

“I don't understand,” he responded. Pansy cringed at the hollowness and confusion in his voice. “What does this have to do with why your best mate would be more worried about me than you in our relationship?”

 

“Because of the circle's misguided solution to protect me,” she sadly sighed, her hand rubbing the back of Draco's for comfort. “They thought Lucius would try again to get to me, so with my mum being dead and us being hit with the same spell – they decided it would be better if Lizzie would be dead too. So they ended up hiding me in plain sight while still managing to lock me away.”

 

“Lizzie,” he said exasperated. “Would you please stop talking in riddles? Plain English. _Please_.”

 

“My father and I were fighting about you yesterday – before everything went to hell and the hand basket. Then he reminded me why the ban had been put in place and I wanted to die to on the spot because I couldn't believe I had forgotten that Weasley's only make love matches. 

 

“Something I'm entirely incapable of doing,” she choked out. “Their solution to protect me the Malfoy Spousal Bind was to prevent the spell from enacting by preventing me from...they stopped me from being able to...well, they used the Heartsease Curse and they can't lift it; they've tried off and on again since I was seventeen to do so. Unfortunately as long as it's in place...I can't do any bind that requires me to...to...I can't Ron." 

 

She watched as his eyes just looked at her, his mouth opening and closing but not a sound coming out.

 

“I'm so sorry Ron,” she whispered. “I didn't mean to mislead you if I have. It's just that --”

 

“And they call you Pansy?” he asked incredulously, cutting her off.

 

“Hidden in plain sight,” she struggled to say; her voice kept cracking as she forced herself not to run towards him."No one would ever--"

 

“You let them call you that?” his voice growing louder and angrier. 

 

She nodded in reply, biting her lip. There was no way she could actually lend her voice to any words in reply. 

 

Through her glassy eyes, she watched as he stormed out of Draco’s room with a glance before shaking his head. She lay down next to Draco and cried into his still body, wishing he would wake up. She needed her best mate. Now more than ever.

 

It wasn't long after Ron left that Harry entered the room with, "So how much and what exactly did you tell him to make him shoot me and Theo such dirty looks?"

 

"Almost everything."

 

"Okay," Harry replied carefully before saying, "What didn't you tell him?"

 

"He doesn't know who exactly is in the circle..."

 

"And?"

 

"He knows everything else: the circle, Draco, the curse, everything." Pansy tried to keep her voice steady as possible but hearing what she said sent a new wave of sorrow crashing down upon her, renewing her tears.

 

Harry's face stared at her, frozen in amazement, as he moved towards where she laid curled up next to Draco.

 

“You told him,” he asked, running his hand through his hair. “You actually told him.”

 

“I had to after yesterday. He asked and I couldn't lie to him,” she sobbed, clinging to Draco's hospital gown. “He deserves to know that I can't give him what he wants. That I can never be what he wants. What he deserves.”

 

Harry said nothing, so she continued, “I did the right thing, didn't I Harry? I need to let him go because he could never really be mine, right?” Taking a deep breath between her sobs she continued, “I should have listened to Draco when he cautioned me, because he was right. I just couldn't. I couldn't bring myself too. I swore that I would take whatever time I could have with him but I don't want him to leave. I want him to stay with me.”

 

“You know, no one expected you to do what you just did. Not even Arthur,” Harry replied softly. "We figured that we would be doing the ones explaining. Arthur's even prepared a little --" 

 

“No one has any faith in me, do they?”

 

“I wouldn't say that,” he replied, pulling her up to her feet. “The old guard is just worried about you having to experience anymore sorrow. Sometimes I think they forget you aren't a little girl anymore and that they can't protect you from everything.

 

“The rest of us – we talked about it and we just want you happy, no matter who or what makes you happy. After everything in the last twenty-four hours, the rest of us were starting to make plans on how to challenge the old guard. I'm just sorry that even so, you know we just can't leave the two of you alone to simply be.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“You really care about him don't you?” 

 

Pansy nodded her head as she fought back the next wave of her tears.

 

"And there is nothing either Draco or I could say to stop you from preventing this from going any further if Ron comes back to you?"

 

Vigorously she nodded her head before whispering, "Please Harry. I know it's wrong but _please_."

 

Harry looked at her with a pensive look on his face as he wiped the tears from her face. She watched a dawning come over his face before he sighed and said, “I'm thinking that you should let Nott take you home and get some sleep in your own bed tonight. While you do that, I'll go talk to Ron. McMillan can keep an eye on Draco here before Andromeda arrives for her shift.”

 

“You will do that?” she whispered, her tears suddenly drying up. “You will go after him. For me?”

 

“No. I'm going after him for _him_. He's my best mate Pansy; while I'm only responsible for you.

 

“In spite of that, I do have to say, I always thought that he and Hermione belonged together but seeing the two of you together -even in the small amount of time- I can see that you make him happier than she ever did. 

 

"I just want my best mate happy in the end after all he's been through for me– even if it is with a princess like you,” he said with a forced smile, tweaking her nose playfully. “But first you have to go home with Nott and let him and your mother take care of you. No exceptions. Promise?”

 

“Promise,” she softly smiled as Harry placed a kiss on her forehead.

 

“Yeah right,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Please just let them have their way. No Pissy-Pansy tonight. Okay?”

 

“I'll behave.”

 

“I'll believe it when Nott tells me,” he laughed pulling her out the door with him before handing her off to Nott. “She's agreed to go home and get some sleep in her own bed.”

 

“How did you do it?” Nott said, wrapping a cloak around Pansy. “I've spent most of the day trying to get her to capitulate to the same thing before Weasley got here.”

 

“Because he's more manipulative than you, especially when he wants something,” she replied, more than slightly put out by the babying; however, she stifled the desire to pitch a fit and just let Theo continue. “He should have been in Slytherin.”

 

“What does that have to do with anything?” Nott asked, doing the button on her cloak.

 

“Well I promised to go home and let you and mother take care of me.”

 

Theo silently stared at Harry before pulling Pansy into a hug. Turning to Harry, he said, “Thank you. Let me know if you need anything. Come on, Princess. Let's get you home and to bed.”

 


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter 15 – The Trinity 

Pansy was at her wits end. 

She knew that Harry and Theo were well-intentioned, but their strick interpertation of the circle's orders of not letting her out of their sight had her pulling her hair out. The worst part being that she wasn't even allowed to go the loo alone. They had taken to waiting outside of the door if there was only a toilet inside; and in the toilet itself if there were stalls. Over the years, her freedom had been restricted off-and-on with the decision to accept the proposed arrangement with Lucius on behalf of Draco, the rise-and-fall of Voldemort, and the consequences for her actions during the Battle. However, it had never been _this_ restricted before -at least she had been able to take a piss in peace. 

And though she had promised Arthur she would not only behave by letting Harry and Theo have complete control but would stay away from her father and the Lair, the anxiety that came from being smothered was driving her to act out against the circle. Without Ron around to help keep her in check, her mind started to draw up plans as to how to escape Harry and Theo's attentions long enough to visit her father. She knew he would give her some of the space she craved even if he was in the same room; he always had no matter how bad things had gotten between the two of them. 

When she had started planning on how to escape their attention, Pansy had figured it would take longer than two days for her to find her window of opportunity to slip over to the Lair. Surprisingly, Draco ended up being helpful in meeting her ends by providing the cover. Abruptly, he regained consciousness and violently started attacking anything and everything that came into his vision -without his wand. While, Harry and Theo had become occupied after emotional and persistent requests of the Healers trying to subdue Draco, Pansy quickly slipped away to the Floo network on the ground floor and quietly called, “The Office at the Lair.” 

Stepping out of the Floo into the Lair, the first thing she saw was her father laying on the couch, a bottle and glass full of firewhisky nearby on the floor as he stared at the picture in his hands. She noticed that though his face was sad it was also full of awe at the same time while he ran his fingers over the picture. Pansy recognized the frame; it was the same picture that had sat on his desk for most of her life. 

“Daddy?” She gently called out to him, trying not to startle him, even though she had a good idea that he already knew she was there. 

“I'm surprised you still call me that after what happened...I figured I was permanently relegated to Philip after Sunday. That was even _if_ you were still on speaking terms with me,” he said off-handedly, staring at the picture in his hand; his fingers slowly tracing what she knew to be her image. “Your new bodyguards actually let you see me?” 

She gave out a laugh and shook her head as she replied, “Of course not. They are under orders from Arthur and the circle to prevent me from coming here...I gave them the slip.” 

“That's my girl.” 

“Granted neither one are used to any of my tricks, so it really didn't take much skill.” 

Silence fell over the room as her father kept looking at the picture in his hands. Grabbing a chair, she pulled it over towards him. Pansy curled up into it and wrapped her arms around her legs while resting her chin on her folded knees to wait out his silence. 

Patiently waited for him to say anything, she watched him. Pansy wanted to ask what was the big deal about the picture but she knew better when he was this introspective. Anyway, it wasn't like he was going to say anything about the picture other than 'remember' and she wasn't in the mood to play mind games with him tonight. 

“How's Draco?” her father asked quietly, his eyes never leaving the photo. 

“He started regaining consciousness about twenty minutes ago,” she responded, still clutching her knees. “It's actually how I was able to give Harry and Theo the slip. They ordered me outside when Draco became violent – they just didn't specify how far outside.” 

“So you decided to come and see the man who is being accused of almost killing your best mate and bodyguard and hurting you in the process?” 

“You may have hurt Draco, Daddy, but you didn't hurt me,” she had started, but her father's raised eyebrow changed the direction of her comment. “Okay, maybe you did hurt me but you didn't do it intentionally which is what they were accusing you of and _that_ **started** this whole thing. 

“Anyway, it's not like we haven't been doing our damnedest to hurt each other every chance we get these days. Whether anyone wants to admit it, what happened Sunday was inevitable. Draco just had the misfortunate to jump in between us this time when he misread the whole situation.” 

He didn't say a word as she watched him finally put the picture down on the floor. Sitting up, he rested his arms on his legs and sadly asked, “So how did we get here?”” 

“I've been wondering the same thing, Daddy. Nothing has been the same since Christmas.” 

“From what I have gathered from Persephone, isn't that about the same time you became friendly with Ron?” 

“Daddy, leave him out of this. We had already been at each other's throats for days regarding the Harpies' by the time Ron and I struck up a friendship.” 

“I'm not saying it was a cause. I'm just saying that it was a factor.” 

Pansy shook her head in reaction to her father's assumption before speaking, “It was actually more a factor in me avoiding you, Daddy,” she conceded. “Ron and I only started dating maybe a week or so before you saw him at the Cannon's game. Before then, we were simply friends. He was involved with Hermione Granger at that point and I was providing him someone who he could talk to about that relationship without any preconceived notions or judgements about it. 

“I knew you would react badly, so I didn't say anything and made Draco promise not to either. I just didn't think that everyone would assume you would hurt me if I disobeyed your orders. I figured you would make me choose between Ron and Draco and then lock me away until I chose Draco and the circle.” 

“I hate to admit it but you are right,” her father sighed.” 

“I know you want to protect me Daddy and I appreciate what you and the others do, but you do have to let me live. And part of that is letting me get hurt and suffer the consequences of my choices.” 

“So how long did Draco know about you and Ron?” 

“I don't know,” she admitted, shrugging her shoulders. “He called me on it about a week after the New Year but he acted like he was well aware of me hanging out with Ron in the evenings.” 

The opening of the office doors caused both of them to jump with Philip rising to his feet, putting himself between it and Pansy, his wand pointed in their direction. Pansy curled even further back into the chair, trying to decide if she could safely Apparate in the position she was in. 

“Put your wand down Philip. I just came to visit without everyone else around. Merlin knows we won't get anything accomplished with everyone talking at once.” Arthur Weasley's voice filled the office. “I was wondering how long it would take you to come here. You are just like your mum you know that? Won't do what we tell you to do, but sure as hell will do what we tell you not to,” he laughed as he continued. “So don't bother hiding from me Lizzie.” 

“How?” she asked, standing up from the chair to watch him close the door behind him and move towards her and her father. 

Arthur shook his head with a chuckle. “I may be absent-minded but I'm not an idiot.” 

“I didn't mean to imply...” 

“I know,” he said. “Just reminding you in case you had forgotten. It's been a while since I was actively involved in your life.” 

“I guess that means you are in charge now.” 

“Just until a few people calm down,” he replied. 

Pansy just raised her eyebrow to look at him. They all knew that there wasn't multiple people involved at this point. 

Arthur just laughed. “Okay, just waiting on Andromeda to calm down. Everyone else knows management really isn't my thing. Your father is much better at it.” 

Pansy softly smiled and teased, “I always knew you preferred the role of spy.” 

“No I just prefer to be constantly and consistently underrated. It's amazing what people will say and do around you when they mistake you for a fool. Anyway, you know, if you really wanted to see your father so badly, you should have just said something to me. Not even Bear would stop you if you wanted to be here.” 

“Oh,” she replied, feeling quite silly becaue she knew he was right. She had just operated on the assumption that the circle was going to keep her away from him because of what had happened. “I just assumed.” 

“You always do,” her father spoke up. “You always assume the worse in us these days. Granted we don't seem able to give you any other option.” 

“For whatever reason, you seem to be the only one who we screw up with regularly,” Arthur added. “It's funny if you think about it, the one that matters the most to all of us is the one we have the greatest tendency to fail.” 

“Well I never believed that any of you failed me,” she replied, as she shook her head with a soft smile. “I'm safe and alive which is better than anyone hoped for after mum died.” 

“But it's your happiness,” her father replied, as she took a seat in her chair. “That's where we seem to always go wrong with you. We always seem to take that away from you first, trying to protect you.” 

She sighed and conceded, “Only because you kept interferring in my choices and decisions. You have to let me grow up on my own.” 

The room fell silent as the three looked at each other, knowing that she had a point. That they had taken their responsibilities of protecting her to such a degree that one could safely argue that they had prevented her from maturing into the woman they wanted her to be. 

“May I ask how Ron is doing?” she added quietly, looking at Arthur. She felt her father's eyes fall immediately on her before he moved to retrieve more glasses from the bar. 

Pansy hadn't seen Ron since he walked out of the hospital room. Harry had gone and tried to talk to him a couple of times, but told her that Ron refused to talk about anything with him; that he just asked for everyone to leave him alone while he sorted everything out for himself. She had suggested that maybe she should go and talk to him; however,  Harry and Theo asked her to keep her distance for a bit, to respect Ron's wishes on this matter. They told her she owed him that, after all she had put him through – again. 

Arthur didn't answer her question, instead he took a seat on the couch with a sad and soft smile, picking up the photo that her father had sat on the ground. Looking at the picture, he chuckled as he said, “I'd forgotten how blonde you were as a child. When was this? At your fourth-” 

Suddenly shock filled his face as he looked at the image he was tracing with his thumb. She could have sworn in his awe, he muttered, “Oh my gods. She was right,” breathlessly but she wasn't sure as he quickly shook off his surprise. 

With a quick and forced laugh, he remarked out loud, not looking at Pansy, “Philip, where did you find this picture?” 

“Would you believe it's been on my desk for years?” he replied, returning to where Arthur and Pansy were. 

“I'm surprised,” Arthur said, his face full of sadness, concern and realization. She realized it was the same look that her father had had on his face when she stepped into his office moments ago. 

However, she didn't understand what was going on between the two men. She kept darting her eyes from one to the other for any clue as to what they were talking about. They appeared to be having a serious conversation without words as they kept looking at each other and then the picture before looking back at her with concern. 

As far as she knew, there was nothing special about that picture. It was just a picture of her at her last birthday before her mum died. She couldn't remember anything particular or spectacular about that birthday party. Then again, it appeared to be just another day in which time had stolen her memories. 

Handing Arthur a glass of firewhisky, Philip gave a short laugh before saying, “I know. I'd actually had forgotten what had happened before that picture was taken until moments ago. I just always liked it because she looked so happy. Looked like the little girl I remember those last months before Gwenny died. And it's always been there in front of my eyes.” 

“Well you weren't the only one. How did we not see _this_?” Arthur asked before sipping on his firewhisky. 

“At least we aren't the only ones. The entire circle was there that day,” Philip answered with a laugh, handing Pansy her own drink. 

“But Gwenny, she knew,” Arthur replied. “She just kept trying to tell us.” 

Philip laughed as he said, “And what did we tell her?” 

“That she was imagining things; that Lizzie was too young. We weren't very observant then were we?..Do you think Draco knows?” 

“Of course he does – he has too. It's the only explanation for his behaviour lately. Don't worry Lizzie,” Philip spoke before she had a chance to interrupt to figure out what they were talking about regarding her. “ You will figure it out in good time.” 

“How about you tell me now and save me the grief?” she sassed back, feeling put out by being talked about while she was in the room. 

Arthur just laughed. “Nah. You keep telling us all lately that we need to let you live. So consider this our first step in letting you live without our interferance.” 

“Now you listen to me,” she whined causing both men to laugh. “That's not fair. You can't pick and choose when you do what I ask.” 

“Of course it's not fair,” Arthur told her. “But life  seldom is. Don't worry, you aren't alone by the way.” 

“Fine,” she huffed. “But can I let it be known that I don't like you two very much anymore.” 

“I'm your father, you aren't suppose to like me,” Philip joked back causing Pansy to laugh. She had forgotten how much she missed this easy report she had had with him. Though she wished that Sunday had never had to happen, in a twisted way she was almost glad; Draco getting seriously hurt appeared to have been the spark for her and her father to get past the hurt and anger they had been throwing at each other the past few months. 

“Dammit Lizzie!” Theo's voice echoed through the office. 

With a smirk on her face, she just looked at her father and Arthur and said, “Looks like I've been caught,” before taking a sip of her drink nonchalantly. 

“You used to be better at this,” Arthur teased. “I know you lost me for two days one time and you where what? Eight?” 

She laughed. “I thought I was. I've only been here for what Daddy – ten minutes?” 

“Didn't Harry and I tell you to wait for us outside?” Theo yelled, storming into the office, before Philip could respond, his frustration and stress evident in his voice. 

Rolling her eyes she sighed. “Yes. You both did. You just didn't specify the 'outside.' And I'm clearly outside Draco's room.” 

“Da – Philip. Arthur. Do something,” he retorted gesturing to her. 

Pansy's smile just grew as she watched the two men look at each other and have a wordless convesation before Arthur turned to Theo. Very carefully, after taking a sip of his drink, Arthur smirked. “Well I seem to remember the lot of you thinking that Draco's role was the easiest in the circle when it comes to her, but it's not so easy is it when she sets her mind to something?” 

“It is the easiest for him,” Theo snapped. “Especially since he's got an advantage the rest of us don't have.” 

Pansy turned to look at Theo not entirely sure what he was talking about. Draco didn't have an advantage that she knew about with regards to their binds to her. From everything she could find, protection binds all worked the same; it was just the consequences in response to failure that were different. 

Rolling her eyes at Theo, she said, “You're mad. ” 

“I'm mad?” Theo hissed, glaring at her with his eyes narrowing. “What about the simple fact that you will do anything to make sure nothing happens to him, unlike the rest of us. You won't think twice before sending us to the gal--” 

Theo didn't have a chance to finish his sentence before Pansy had leapt from her chair, took a few quick strides toward him and brought an end to his words with a stinging slap across his face. Her anger exploded from her body causing Theo to fall to his knees after her hand had connected. 

“Do **not** speak of what you don't understand,” she spat at him, tapping her foot as she bent over – her face inches from his. “You know nothing about the choices that were made before you were brought in. How dare you accuse me of belittling the allegiance and sacrifices that **each** one of you make on my accord. Draco may have a greater hold on my heart than anyone else but it is only because his sacrifice to ensure my life will be greater than anyone elses' should he fail.” 

Pansy stared at Theo kneeling before her, his eyes wide with shock as he struggled to hide the pain she knew he was feeling as she continued to tap her foot. 

“Lizzie,” she heard Arthur's voice from behind her quietly. “I think that's enough.” 

“Well I don't,” she snapped, her eyes still focused on Theo's as she saw fear flutter through them. “He needs to understand. He needs to be taught.” 

“Lizzie. Enough.” Her father's voice firm and constant as he laid his hand on her shoulder. She knew, at that very moment, she had crossed a line. 

“Yes sir,” she responded as she backed away from Theo. She watched horrified as Theo's eyes rolled back before his body went limp, crashing to the floor with a thud. She watched as Philip and Arthur went to him to help him to his feet. 

“Go straight home Lizzie and do not leave until I send someone to escort you otherwise,” Arthur told her, as they lifted Theo up into their arms to carry him to the medical facilities. 

She nodded in agreement biting her lip. Before turning to leave as told, she asked, “Would you like me to send Mother back?” 

“Only if she is willing,” her father replied, as Philip and Arthur moved to leave. 

Suddenly feeling sick to her stomach, she grabbed the Floo powder from the mantel. Calling out “Haven,” she stepped through the Floo and into her bedroom. 

As soon as her feet reached the floor, she took off running for her mother. Pansy didn't have to go far. She found her mother in the bedroom she had claimed for herself while she waited for her husband to beg for her forgiveness. 

“Mother,” Pansy softly gasped, trying to hold back the tears that  welled in her eyes as her mind slowly realized how far she had actually overstepped her bounds with Theo. 

“Lizzie. What is it?” her mother asked, shooting off the bed when she saw Pansy come rushing into the room. “Is Draco okay?” 

“He's fine,” she found herself struggling to say what she needed to because words made what she had done even more real. “It's Theo actually.” 

“What's happened?” Pansy could hear her mother's panic in her voice as she grabbed Pansy's arms. 

“I think...Well I know...” she stopped and started trying to figure out what exactly she was going to say. Finally she settled on the simple truth. “Mother, he angered me and I hurt him.” 

“Oh, Lizzie,” her mother cried out, wrapping Pansy in her arms. Pushing her back to look at her, she said, “Are you okay?” 

“I'm fine,” she replied guiltily. Softly she admitted, “Theo's not. Mother, Arthur and Daddy had to call me off.” 

“Dear Merlin,” she whispered, pulling her back into her arms. “Where did your father and Arthur take him?” 

“They are at the Lair. They were carrying him to the medical facilities when they sent me home. I asked Daddy if I should send you and...” 

“Don't worry about Theo, love,” her mother whispered, kissing her on her forehead. “Arthur and your father wouldn't let you hurt him too bad.” 

Pansy didn't have a chance to say anything in return before her mother kissed her again and Apparated out of her room. 

Hanging her head in guilt, Pansy turned to return to her room. Laying down at the end of the bed, she curled up into a small ball and stared at the flames in her fireplace. Pansy knew that she had to punish Theo earlier, and she was completely in the right about doing so, but the reality of what she had done – crossing the line between punishment and cruelty started to really weigh on her as she struggled to fight back the tears. 

It didn't take long as her tears evolved into sobs and her sobs gave way to exhaustion as the blackness of sleep enveloped her without her knowledge. 

“Lizzie.” 

She could here her name being called out but she couldn't see anything in the blackness. 

Pansy could hear a voice begging her to come back to him as she struggled against the darkness that was enveloping her. 

Suddenly a rush of warm air hit her lungs hard as her body jerked up. She felt a strong arm quickly tightened itself around her, pulling her tightly against a solid body before starting to rock her. She struggled to open her eyes to see who was holding her and offering comfort because she had been so sure she would be on her own until morning at the very least. 

Her eyes struggled to focus on who her savior was that night. 

“Shhh. It's going to be okay, Lizzie,” Ron's voice softly whispered into her ear as the haze she had found herself in finally started to lift. 

“Ron!” she sobbed burying herself into his warm embrace further, so thankful he was there. 

_He's here!_ Her mind screamed, her tears suddenly gone. 

“You're here,” she whispered, reaching out to his face to ensure she wasn't dreaming or he wasn't a figment of her imagination. “You are really here.” 

Kissing her gently on her forehead, he said, “Of course I'm here. Where else would I be?” 

“I don't know,” she replied, her fingers following the line of his jaw. “I didn't think you want to be with me anymore.” 

“What would ever give you that opinion?” his voice sounded incredulous. Pansy found herself trying to press down the hope that was building inside her that maybe he wasn't going to leave her -at least not yet.

“You've been gone for three days,” she started. “I wanted to come after you but Harry and Theo said to leave you be until you were ready. That I had already put you through enough as it was.” 

“Well that explains that,” he remarked, pulling her back into his body with her safely protected in his arms. 

“Explains what?” she muttered, running her fingers along his chest. 

“I actually told Harry to tell you where I was, in case you needed me, but that I wanted _him_ and everyone else involved to leave me alone until I could sort everything out in my mind.” 

“Oh.” 

“I couldn't believe you didn't come to see me, that suddenly you didn't need me which made me mad. After having a bit too much to drink that first night, I came to tell you that you weren't getting rid of me that easy, that you weren't going to give up on us either. But when I came through the Floo you were already asleep in your bed and you looked so peaceful, even though I could tell you had cried yourself to sleep. I just couldn't bear the thought of waking you, so I've been coming here every night to stay with you and make sure you were okay with Draco at the hospital and all.” 

“Ron, I'm not giving up on us. It never crossed my mind. I just thought that everything may be too much for you, which I can understand,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him gently on the lips – thinking about how wonderful a man she had found. “What I don't understand is why did you want to avoid Harry? He's your best mate.” 

“Because of you,” he whispered. “Of all the things you have told me, knowing that they hit you with a Heartsease Curse while calling you Pansy... well, it made me so angry. And knowing my best mate was involved in the group that did that to you just seemed to make it worse at the time. I needed to avoid everyone I thought was involved so I wouldn't lash out at them while I came to terms with what they had condemned you too.” 

Painfully she whispered, “Does it bother you that much – the Heartsease Curse?” 

“Yes it bothers me,” he replied, caressing her face. “It bothers me that they used it on you and then flaunted it in your face.” 

“But what about being with me? Now that you know that I will never be able to love you.” 

“There was never a question about that. In fact, I've never thought twice about it and us as a couple,” he whispered. “I mean, I'm here, aren't I?” 

She nodded, tears of joy whelling up in her eyes as her heart lept for joy. She hadn't lost him. After everything, he was still there and he was still hers. She would do anything to give him everything he would ever want. 

“One thing you need to know though, Lizzie, don't ever plan on hearing me call you Pansy again – unless I absolutely have too. They may rub it in your face, but I refuse too.” 

 


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter 16 – The Rooster Crows

  


Frantically, Pansy was trying to get her lab cleaned before her unexpected meeting since her boss, Percy Weasley, had made it his own personal lab during her time off. Pansy hadn't taken one step in the room before a very heated argument began between her and Percy about just whose lab it was started. There was no doubt in her mind that she had won the argument. Though she had a feeling that her pulling the Kingsley card had more to do with it then Percy admitting that he was actually in the wrong for taking it over in her absence, regardless of the abysmal condition she found it in.

  


Harry and someone from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement where suppose to meet her in her lab to discuss her findings in the continued investigation of the re-emergence of the Walpurgis Knights that had began with that blasted Christmas raid which had changed her life. Though the investigation slowly had been picking up steam over the past few months and her role was unfortunately becoming more and more vital, she was still hoping that she would be able to stay discretely within the background as the investigation continued. Granted those hopes were no longer very high since she had been the only Potion Master, employed by the Ministry, to be able to identify even the fairly elementary, though rare potions, that the Aurors kept finding in their raids. Much to her chagrin, she had become the Aurors go-to potion master with all raids associated with Walpurgis Knights investigation, much to Percy's displeasure.

  


She was in the process of pulling the files she would need for the meeting when she heard the door to her lab open. Pansy quickly, stacked her files together and lifted her head to see who had entered.

  


By some miracle, she was able to suppress the desire to groan and roll her eyes when she recognized just who the MLE sent with Potter – bushy haired, no nonsense, stick-in-the-mud Hermione Granger. Pansy briefly wondered how much work Granger actually put into being so off-putting with her appearance. She couldn't understand why anyone would wear such an ill-fitting, matronly suit and have her hair tied back in an even more unattractive bun; no one, in Pansy's mind could care that little about their appearance on purpose at twenty-one. Pansy reckoned that Umbridge was more attractive at the moment and she looked like a bloody frog. It simply blew Pansy's mind that Granger wouldn't put in the slightest effort to her appearance, especially since she was an absolutely stunning woman when she did. Pansy wandered briefly if casting an _Imperious_ on Granger to get her to improve her appearance, for the sake of Granger's own sex life, would be worth the risk. 

  


“Granger. Potter,” she said in clipped tones with a snide smile on her face; tones not dissimilar to the ones she used at Hogwarts. Pansy figured it would be in everyone's best interest (specifically Harry’s and Ron’s) if she acted like they were still school children together. It just surprised her that it was so hard to maintain the air of indifference and dislike with Harry with everything that had recently come to pass.

  


“Parkinson,” Harry replied in a clipped tone as well all the while shaking his head 'no' from behind where Granger stood. Pansy didn't like what he was telling her but understood perfectly what he wasn't saying – that Ron still hadn’t gotten around to telling Granger he was involved with Pansy (a point of contention between them that flared up on a regular basis these days). “Thank you for coming in on your day off to meet with us.”

  


“Not a problem. Thank you for agreeing to a time that was convenient for me. I do appreciate your flexibility,” she replied coolly, moving away from her desk while trying to maintain an illusion of distant and cool friendliness while at the same point trying not giving away her and Harry's exact relationship in front of Granger.

  


“You're the Potions Master?” Granger finally spoke up from where she stood near the doorway. Pansy had just noticed that the woman was looking at her dumbfounded. “The one that has been key to identifying all these potions? You?”

  


Pansy just looked at her sarcastically and replied with a measure of fake sweetness, “Can't get anything by you can I, Granger? But then again I could have sworn my name was on all those reports you are probably carrying in your little hand right now, so I can’t imagine why you are pretending to be so--.”

  


“How can you be a Potions Master?”

  


“The same way as any other Potion Master employed by the Ministry – scored highly on my NEWTS in Potions, Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, Charms, Transfiguration, Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. I know that last one probably comes as a bit of a surprise to you,” she replied, the last part laced with heavy sarcasm. She saw Potter shake his head furiously at her, from his position behind Granger. Rolling her eyes, Pansy gave up and politely moved the direction of the conversation by saying, “I figured we may need space to work and spread out, so I've made sure this table is clean for us to work.”

  


“No, you didn't,” Granger retorted as Harry and Pansy took seats at her large workspace in the center of the room that she had just spent a good hour cleaning.

  


Pansy sighed; she always hated this topic when it came up. And like she always did, she pretended to be dense when the opportunity presented itself. “Unfortunately, I found my lab in less than stellar conditions as someone had confiscated it for their own personal use in my absence. So I do apologize if its cleanliness is not up to your standard, because I know it is certainly not up to mine.”

  


“That's not what I meant,” she snapped. Pansy could have sworn her hair got bushier, in spite of the bun it was held in, as she bustled like a rooster, “You didn't take NEWTS in all those subjects.”

  


“I certainly did or I wouldn't have this position at the very least,” she said with a forced smile on her face. Sighing, “But if you don't believe me, I'm more than happy to give you permission to look at my educational file which has my scores. So where do we want to start? I would like to return to my day off in a reasonable time frame, if you don't mind.”

  


“Quite understandable. I'm thinking the raid on Bartholomew's place since...” Harry started trying to keep the topic of their conversation on the task at hand.

  


Unfortunately, Granger did not have the same thought process, nor apparently was she capable of extending any courtesy towards Pansy. Her behavior at the moment reminded Pansy of all the nasty scuttlebutt that had been flowing around the Ministry recently about Granger's contentious lack of people skills in trying to control and dictate. “How could you? You weren't in our NEWT-level classes in Potions, Herbology, or Charms during sixth year.”

  


Sighing, Pansy rolled her eyes. “Remember you don't actually have to sit in the classroom to take the exams at OWL or NEWT level. You may be the brightest witch of our generation in overall academic aptitude, Granger, but some of us aren't too shabby either – Draco and I were number 2 and 3 in academic rankings, in case you have forgotten.”

  


“You couldn't have done that,” Granger snapped at her. “They said it was against the rules.”

  


“Look Granger. I've never been one for knowing all the rules but rest assure when I took my NEWTS in _all_ my subjects everything was on the up and up without any special treatment or consideration. My hiring on here was completely on the up and up with poor assumptions regarding my loyalties during the last war being the part most were up in arms about,” Pansy said, trying to remain calm while her temper started to boil. She could tell Harry was beginning to feel it and willed herself even more to stay calm. “So can we get to the task at hand? I do need to get back to my personal responsibilities for the day.”

  


“Fine,” she huffed, before taking a seat on the other side of Harry. “By the way, I will be checking your educational records...To ensure that you are the person we want on this case.”

  


“Go right ahead. In fact, if you want to make it easy on yourself, I'm sure Percy would be more than happy to loan you his copy, if you just ask him on the way back to your office. It will probably save you some trouble with all those pesky forms.”

  


“Why does Percy have your scores?” Harry snapped, his head spinning to look at Pansy. The look he gave her made her realize that she should have told some people about that little issue she had had with Percy. Of all things that could save her from his insufferable attitude towards her – it would be her NEWT scores.

  


“I imagine for the same reason she wants to check them out,” she replied with a sweet, sarcastic smile glued on her face as she faced Granger. “But I would suggest checking with them for their true motivations since I'm only going on assumptions here.”

  


“Back to the Bartholomew Raid,” Granger said still huffing; clearly put out by Pansy's insinuation which led to a vindicated smile on Pansy’s face. “There were sixteen potions captured at the raid on Bartholomew's place on Boxing Day, correct?”

  


“Yes,” Potter replied. “Since then all but one has been identified.”

  


“Who did the identifications?”

  


“I ultimately signed off on them,” Pansy responded, pulling out her notes. “The assignment was initially given to Pierson. He had been assigned to the Aurors that week. I had been on call the day of the raid but ended up doing no work associated the day of. However, the assignment was reassigned to me after Pierson acknowledged he could only identify five of the potions.”

  


“And you have since made the identifications on the other ten?”

  


“Nine actually. I'm still working on the last one.”

  


“Have you called in for assistance?” Granger asked, Pansy didn't like the light that shown in her eye.

  


She smiled as sweetly as possible, before saying, “The other three Potion Masters currently employed by the ministry as well as Professor Slughorn and my boss Percy Weasley have all made identification attempts but have not been successful. If you would like a shot, then by all means, ask Percy for permission – I'm sure he would allow you space in the common lab to work.”

  


“What about this lab?” she responded with a sickening sweet smile on her face. “We are old classmates.”

  


“Granger, I work for the Aurors when it is deemed necessary by the Minister himself. Otherwise my responsibilities are strictly to the job in which I was hired –the reason behind me having my own lab to begin with. I'm unable to allow anyone else outside of myself to use this lab for any other potions work. 

  


“However, if you feel differently, then please inquire with Percy or the Minister. Remember though six very well respected Potion Masters have all failed.” Pansy couldn't help the smirk that formed on her face. She was able to get a glimpse of Harry and saw that he had paled at some point. Maybe there was a bright side to Percy commandeering her lab for his own selfish gain while she was out of the office. Because now there was no way in Hades, he would or could get away with granting Granger her request.

  


“Well, I just might,” she responded, her chest puffing out proudly. “As you said some say that I'm the brightest witch of our generation.”

  


“Feel free to try,” Pansy replied nonchalantly, though she had to briefly wonder where Granger's self-importance was coming from. She remembered her as an annoying, know-it-all twit but not an arrogant one to boot too. Maybe she just needed to get laid. “Now where were we?”

  


“The Bartholomew Raid?” Harry choked out as he fidgeted on his stool. “You told me that of the fifteen potions that you have been able to identify were: three passion potions, two love potions, three binding potions, wolfsbane potion, three dream potions, and three strength potions. Correct?”

  


“Yes. Pierson was able to identify the wolfsbane potion, two of the strength potions, one of the binding potions and one of the dream potions. Since that time, we have found all those potions as well as two more love potions, four forgetfulness potions, 2 nightmare potions, four types of healing draughts, two conception potions, four fertility potions, 2 more dream potions and two types of master/slave potions as well as the unidentified potion 3 more times.”

  


“Are they all dark potions?” Granger asked her face focused on the copious notes she was taking.

  


“No,” Pansy shook her head. “All the potions save the unidentified potion and the master/slave potions are legal while a few of them are actually taught in a NEWT level potions course. Most however are fairly obscure which is probably the reason they were chosen; it makes antidotes even harder to come by when they are applied.”

  


“Can you speculate on what they want from them?”

  


“The only thing I've got is a BDSM relationship with a werewolf. Though I have no idea why one would want to embark on that choice of mate,” Pansy said purposefully tongue in cheek with a smirk on her face that would make Draco proud while causing Harry to choke and Granger to turn three sheets of red. “But in the end, all I really do is just identify the potions.”

  


“You are not being helpful Parkinson,” Granger huffed, her face still red.

  


“Wasn't supposed to be,” she retorted with a smile on her face.

  


“You do realize that you are more than likely going to be called to testify when this comes to trial and a stunt like that will not help our side.”

  


“Quite aware of that Granger,” Pansy snapped. She was put out by the little chit accusing her of being unable to act appropriately when called upon. “I'm more than capable of behaving myself with decorum as the occasion arises. Potter has seen me testify before and can attest to my professionalism.”

  


“She's right Hermione,” Harry finally finding his voice, having been scared speechless by the two powerful women on either side of him -though he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt which one was definitely more powerful and more scary. “Parkinson is nothing but a professional in the courtroom. Normally, she's even one here in the privacy of her own lab, but I imagine her current behavior is due to anxiety to return to her personal responsibilities. Am I correct Parkinson?”

  


“Yes,” she said with a nod, allowing Harry to take control of the situation she was starting to manipulate, though she would have preferred him to chide that little bitch for her own inappropriate and aggressive behaviour. Instead she bit her tongue and lied, “I apologize Granger, I've been out of sorts since my friend's traumatic injury.”

  


“Apology not accepted. You should be professional all the time on Ministry business, especially on Ministry time,” she snapped.

  


Pansy cocked her head, and smiled a smile that she noticed cause Harry to shiver, “Just as you are now and have been since you walked into my lab? Remind me not to take lessons in professionalism if you should be teaching them.”

  


Pansy was disappointed that she didn't take the bait but figured it probably was for the best in the end anyway. All she needed was to get into trouble for successfully baiting the Golden Girl, even if she was the one being out of line.

  


Suddenly, Granger's eyes narrowed as she studied Pansy, before saying, “Unless that is what you want? You want the Walpurgis Knights to get off don't you? As a former Death Eater yourself?”

  


Harry groaned and dropped his head to the table as Pansy snapped, “I was never a Death Eater. You can check the records of the trials after the war if you don't believe me.”  
  


“But your boyfriend was and so was his whole family. Maybe this is a favor to them? To help them return to their seat of power?”

  


With that, Pansy noticed that Harry had started to bang his head against the table.

  


“You know you are just going to give yourself a headache by doing that Potter,” Pansy said angrily. She wished that he would just stop before he gave the two of them away. “But to answer your question – no my boyfriend wasn't a Death Eater and neither was any member of his family.”

  


Granger let out a huff as she crossed her arms, before she hissed, “Yes he was. We all saw his motivations the night of Hogwarts.”

  


“Eloquent defense Granger. The bad news for you is that though my boyfriend fought at Hogwarts, you can rest assure he was no more a Death Eater than you or Potter here,” she smiled sweetly, as Harry continued to bang his head against the table. “Potter, would you please stop that! You're giving _me_ a headache.”

  


Pansy had never so happy as when he finally stopped, though he left his head resting on the table.

  


“Thank you,” she sighed. “There's headache potion in the top right drawer of my desk if you need some.”

  


“No thank you,” he muttered, the desk muffling his words even more.

  


“Draco Malfoy not a Death Eater?” Granger growled. “Harry saw his arm and Ron had to save his arse that night.”

  


“Maybe I will after all,” Harry sighed, moving towards the desk, before mumbling, “It may be safer over here anyway at this rate.” 

  


“Draco? I thought you were accusing my boyfriend of being a Death Eater, not Draco,” Pansy asked in a sickeningly sweet voice, though her irritation was starting to burn within her. “Anyway, Draco's arm is as clear as the day he was born, in case you are curious. If you don't believe me it came out in his parents' trial, isn't that right Harry?”

  


“Fine. Play that game. Call Malfoy whatever you want. Fiancé. Betrothed. Whatever.”

  


Pansy just shook her head no, and responded, “I had never realized just how pig headed you were until now. I'm sorry to disappoint you Granger, but Draco and I haven't been in a relationship since Hogwarts. Draco has been seeing Daphne Greengrass' little sister Astoria for the past eight months while I'm doing the very un-Slytherin thing and started dating a pure blood outside of my house.”

  


“Then why do I see you two together all the time then?” she asked.

  


“Kettle meet cauldron. Probably for the same reason you are always seen with the-boy-who-lived here so much -- Draco's my best mate, just as Potter is yours.”

  


Pansy was glad to see Granger speechless for once, but it didn't last long.

  


“So who are you dating then?” Granger asked.

  


“Not that it's any business of yours, but rest assured, he fought on your side during the last war.”

  


“And what side did you fight on?”

  


“The one I always fight on – mine,” Pansy snapped. “Now do you have any pertinent questions regarding Potter's case or can we chalk this up as a failed attempt and try again next week? Maybe, after you have settled that annoying little brain of yours and researched every part of my life as best as you can, whether it applies to the Walpurgis Knights case or not.”

  


“I think I am going to go do some research regarding your qualifications and determine if you really are the best we have to work on such an important case. As well as any other part of your life that is pertinent to this case. If we need you, we will be in contact,” Granger said, gathering her items with a huff. She was out the door before she realized that Harry wasn't right behind her. She spun quickly and started tapping her foot as she growled, “Harry, are you coming?”

  


“In just a moment, Hermione, I need to ask Parkinson about some things regarding another case that Kingsley assigned her.”

  


“Fine,” she snapped, before slamming the door to the lab.

  


“That could have gone better,” he sighed, taking a seat back at the table.

  


“And it could have gone a lot worse. Almost did in fact. We should be considering ourselves lucky that she didn't press too much regarding just who I'm dating,” Pansy reminded him as she gathered up her unused notes. “She really doesn't know, does she?

  


“Don't look at me,” he responded, his head now buried in his hands. “Ron keeps telling me that he is going to tell her but he's been avoiding her like the plague since the break up. And I don't blame him either.”

  


“Why is that?” she asked taking a seat by him.

  


“I can't believe I'm going to say this but I guess you should know.”

  


“Harry, she's your best mate, you don't have to tell me anything.”

  


“I know but I just think you should know.”

  


“I don't need to know everything Harry. I promise.”

  


“I won't go into details but just hear me out on this. Hermione can't believe that he broke up with her. Every time she saw him immediately after that, she either threw every nasty comment in the book at him or threw herself at him. 

  


“Ginny and I told her repeatedly not to do either. We kept telling her if she gave him space then he would come back – on his own terms. In fact, when he told me he broke it off with her, I thought he was crazy for letting her go at the time and told him that repeatedly.

  


“But now that I have seen the two of you together, what little I have mind you, I've been wondering why I thought they made a good match to begin with. All they did was fight. Where as you both seem to innately tame the other without much discussion. Everything just seems – I don't know – healthier for both of you besides the fact it is obvious that you are both happy.”

  


“Well, hopefully, he'll find a way to tell her before she finds out another way,” Pansy sighed taking a seat next to Potter. “She may not be my favorite person but she deserves to hear it from him and not some third party. And certainly not from me because there is no way she would ever believe that I wasn't the reason for the break up.”

  


“You weren't?” Potter asked incredulous. His green eyes wide as he stared at her, “When he told me we were going to the Cannon's game for his birthday and the tickets were a present – I just assumed they were from Hermione and they were working everything out. When we arrived at the stadium and I saw just where the tickets were I knew he had to have gotten them from you because there was no way Draco or your father would have given him the tickets. Suddenly a lot of questions I had regarding his behaviour at that time started to make sense as well as the break-up.”

  


“If it helps, we didn't start dating until just days before his birthday,” Pansy replied. “Anyway, he would have gotten those tickets from me as a birthday present even if we weren't dating – I mean what else do you give the quintessential Cannon's fan?”

  


“Really?”

  


“Really.”

  


The lab fell silent momentarily before Harry spoke up, “I'm hoping that Ron does find a way to tell her because I really don't want to be around if she finds out.”

  


“You aren't the only one,” she muttered. “Hell, I don't want to be around at all.”

  


“I just wish he would talk to me at the moment but he's not too happy with me for some reason.”

  


“Give him time, Harry,” she gently told him, rubbing his back in an attempt to provide some comfort. “He got hit with a lot a few days ago and he's just not wanting to do something rash if he should lose his temper. He's really struggling with keeping his temper in check at the moment with a lot of people he loves.”

  


“You've talked to him?” Harry snapped, his head quickly turning around to look at her. The look on his face caused her to pull her hand away from him quickly. “Theo and I asked you to leave him alone but no, you just had to be headstrong and go after him. How did you find him anyway?”

  


“I didn't Harry. I promise. I did exactly what you and Theo asked me to do,” she softly said, raising her hands in mock surrender. “He came to me.”

  


Harry just continued to stare at her. She saw anger, confusion, and hurt flutter through his eyes before he softly asked, “When?”

  


“He's stayed with me every night in the flat since you had Theo take me home. I just didn't know he was even there until two nights ago when I had a nightmare.”

  


“Could you please say something to him then? If Hermione starts digging, you know it's just a matter of time before she finds out the truth...At least about you and him.”

  


The look on his face hurt even her. She gently told him, “I'll talk to him. But Harry, please just give him time. He's upset over what the circle did to me years ago and he's just trying not to lash out. And even though he knows you weren't involved, he's having trouble separating you from the rest of them at the moment.”

  


“So I'm not the only one he's avoiding?”

  


“He's avoiding his father too, if that helps.”

  


“I know this is going to sound awful but that is a bit of a relief...I didn't stay to talk to you about this – I really wanted to ask you about was the unidentified potion.”

  


“I'd like to talk to you about that too. I can't keep hiding the fact that I _know_ exactly what the potion is. You know it's only a matter of time before Kingsley brings in someone who can see through my charlatan games. Slughorn almost figured it out last time.”

  


“I want to wait as long as possible. We still have no idea what the group's motivations are or even who is involved. This identification is the only thing we have in our back pocket.”

  


“Isn't this illegal?”

  


“Isn't that potion?”

  


“Fine Potter,” Pansy sighed, biting her lip. “Have it your way. As I've said from the very beginning, it will be your arse if we get caught.”

  


“But my real question is – what's the status of the antidote?”

  


“I'm no closer than any other wizard or witch who has looked for one for the past 600 years.”

  


“Nothing?” he asked and Pansy noted he was no longer looking at her but staring at his hands. “I was hoping you could come up with something before we announce what you found.”

  


“So are you sure, you have nothing?” he asked again when Pansy didn't provide an immediate answer. She knew that tone and didn't like it at all.

  


“Potter what aren't you telling me?” she asked quietly. “What's the real reason you've been pushing for this antidote? It's not about this case is it?”

  


“As I said earlier, we have no ideas regarding the groups' motivations – outside of the one confirmed member we've caught. But he just keeps repeating something about a woman and the ebbing of winter in her eyes.”

  


“The ebbing of winter in her eyes? What the hell is that suppose to me?” Pansy interrupted, scrawling the phrase down on her notes. 

  


“Your guess is as good as anyone else's. Some Unspeakable has been working on it but this guy was tortured to insanity before we captured him by members of the group so it's all we have to start with. We've been looking any spell regarding eyes -including <em>that</em> one- but we've got nothing. Hell, the Unspeakable seems to think that it has nothing to do with a woman's eyes. It's just one more thing that we don't understand about the group.”

  


Harry started to meet her eyes briefly, before looking down at his hands again. “I just think we need to be prepared in case we have an increase in werewolves as well as it would be better to go public with news that this potion exists once again if we have an antidote in place to combat any increases in the werewolf community.”

  


“Bullshite,” she retorted with a hard laugh. “You aren't fooling me on this one especially with you being unable to meet me in the eyes just now. 

  


“It's not just about the case anymore. Is it? Because we both know that there hasn't been an increase in werewolves in spite of the fact we keep coming across the damn potion in various raids. _However_ , I'm currently having to do my normal work on top of the work for the Walpurgis case as well as working on this after hours and on the weekend because you asked me to do so on the down-low. So stop bullshiting me and just be honest.”

  


“You do realize you don't need to know everything,” Harry said standing up.

  


“I understand that. Merlin knows I've been saying that a lot to you and the others as of late,” Pansy jumped off her table, watching him cringe. Moving toward him, she continued, “I do need to know why I'm risking the wrath of Percy Weasley to do this for you. He would love nothing more than to fire my arse.”

  


“So stop if you are so worried. We will simply announce that you figured out the potion when you come back next week.”

  


“Is that what you want?” she asked, seeing something she didn't like in his eyes. His request had nothing to do with work. Pansy knew she went pale as that realisation hit her hard. She should have realized that when he asked her to do it on the down-low, instead of just now. She had just been so excited at the prospect of having an interesting project, and Harry would have known as well as anybody that her research for the Ministry caused her bad attitude on most days even though she wouldn't give up her job for the world.

  


She waited for a response but when he was not forthcoming, she gently said, “This is personal isn't it? This has never been about the Walpurgis Knights, has it?”

  


He didn't answer her.

  


“Harry, why is a potion that hadn't been seen in over 600 years personal?” Pansy asked, hoping her gut instinct at the moment wasn't right. Why did Saint Potter always think the impossible was possible? Maybe because he had always been able to make it happen.

  


When he didn't answer her, she whispered, “Please tell me this isn't about Bill Weasley?”

  


She watched as he looked everywhere in her lab but directly at her. Pansy didn't say anything as he walked around. After a few minutes of stressed silence, Pansy whispered, “You know I've been working on an antidote to the potion not a potion for the illness. They are two separate entities.”

  


Potter immediately stopped in his tracts while Pansy's stomach dropped. She bit her lower lip and sadly looked at him. She wished she had clarified what she was working in all their previous encounters. Potter didn't say anything as he took a seat on her desk.

  


“Has Ron talked to you about Bill?” he softly asked, still not meeting her eyes.

  


“No,” she responded. “Not with everything that's been going on with my father and Draco the past two weeks.”

  


“I'm surprised.”

  


“You shouldn't be,” she told him leaning up against a table. “When was the last time he actually thought of himself first when not focusing on his insecurities.”

  


“So do you want me to tell you?”

  


“I'd rather you not,” she responded. “I'll talk to him this evening. Or at least try to get him to tell me first... By the way, when do you come on duty again?”

  


“Seven.”

  


“Why don't you come a bit early, if you can?” she told him gathering up her materials. “I think he was planning on visiting Draco this evening. I'll try to get him to hang around to talk to you.”

  


“Glad I was sitting for that one,” Harry let out a hollow laugh. “He's going to go see Draco but he can't make time for me.”

  


“Harry...”

  


“What?” he interrupted. “He can forgive Draco but not his best mate?”

  


“He knows Harry,” she whispered. “When I told him about the Heartsease Curse, I also told him the truth about mine and Draco's relationship.”

  


Harry just stared at her.

  


“Harry you know I had too,” she responded, turning away from Harry, so nothing on her face could give her away as she fought back her own tears. “Ron means too much to me to continue to lie to him.”

  


  


 


	18. Chapter 17

Chapter 17 – Unspoken Gifts

It was clearly not Pansy's day.

Her plan had been to slip out of the Ministry undetected. Then the three supposed wise men of the Department of Mysteries found her. First she had been detoured by the Unspeakable Boddington who wanted to know the status of the Amore Draught she had been working on. That conversation led to her being delayed for over an hour. She couldn't get it through his head why the amore roses weren't enough. Then Unspeakable Harp wanted to know the status of his request for two gallons of the stasis draught. That conversation took her another thirty minutes before she got it through his thick skull that  if he would clean his office than he wouldn't have misplaced two bloody gallons of potion. And lastly Unspeakable Bass wanted to talk to her about her work on the Amortentia potion and insisted on having what amounted to a 90 minute conversation at the drop of the hat over the bloody potion that had gotten her the job in the first place.

The next part of her plan had been to catch up with Ron while he visited Draco and try to convince him to go talk to Harry. However, by the time she had gotten to St. Mungo's, Draco informed her that Ron was long gone and fussed at her for taking so long that he was bored since  Astoria was with Daphne in France for the day.

Four very long hours after she arrived at St. Mungo's, Harry had shown up hopeful that she had talked to Ron.  Much to his disappointment, he found that she hadn't been able to because of being delayed in the Ministry; as well as having the bad luck that Ron came earlier to visit Draco than she expected. She felt like she had let Harry down as his face fell.

It bothered her enough that the next time Draco whined, she snapped at him to 'grow up.' Causing him and Harry to just stare at her wide-eyed as she let into him, reminding him that he was a grown adult and could bloody well start acting like one.

Screaming in frustration, she threw her hands up in the air and told them that she would see them both tomorrow and started stalking home through Muggle London. She was half-way home when she finally  felt calm and decided to hire a taxi to take her the rest of the way.

The stress of the day had taken its toll on Pansy finally as she trudged up the stairs to her crimson front door. Slinging it open, it landed against the nearby wall with a loud noise. But she didn't care as she slammed it closed. With the noise reverberating through the flat, she started to hang her bag up.

“Bad day?” Ron's voice called out to her.

Turning to face him, she saw him leaning against the counter in the kitchen with a drink already in his hand.

“Did you know my best mate is a spoiled brat?” she huffed moving towards him. “Please tell me that there is still some Firewhisky  in this flat.”

“And please tell me you are not just now figuring out that Malfoy is a spoiled brat,” he said with a laugh as he fetched her a drink of her own.

“I knew,” she replied grudgingly. “I just never had to be on the receiving end of it.”

“So are you really going to be buying him a Ducatti motorbike, Lizzie?” Ron asked with a small laugh as he handed her the drink. “Or is that just hopeful wishing on his part?”

She just glared at him before saying, “I was,” but when he arched an eyebrow up at her, she relented, “Okay I did. It's in the fricking car park out back. I'm just thinking of not giving it to him until he can prove to me he can act like an adult.”

“You do realize you have a better chance of seeing a unicorn walking down Knockturn Alley than that?”

Scrunching up her face at him with a dirty look, she took a seat at the kitchen table before she continued, “Did you know he has done nothing but whine the last four hours. First it was because you beat his arse in chess, then it was about Astoria going to France for the day with Daphne – who was picking out her wedding dress by the way, then it was about me not being there when I said I would, followed by – Merlin, I can't even remember; I think had started zoning him out by then. I swear the Healer's need to release his arse, so I can send him back to work and let my father deal with him. And to think Blaise and I were thinking of throwing a little get together at the Keep next weekend to celebrate him getting released!”

“Relax, Lizzie. He's just showing you he's feeling better,” Ron laughed tussling her hair before kissing her on the top of her forehead and taking a seat next to her. “So what's this get together you were planning?”

“Blaise owled me after you left this morning about it. The Keep is this place I own up north near the border on the Scottish side with plenty of land to sate our racing habits. We were thinking a little get together with significant others to celebrate Draco getting out; that and it's finally warm enough to get the toys our to race for most of the day.”

“So who are you talking about?”

“Well, you and me, Draco and Astoria, Greg and Daphne, Blaise and the latest trollope he's seeing – I can't remember her name, and Theo and Justin. If you want to invite Harry and Ginny it should be fine so you won't be the only lion in the pit of snakes.”

“Who is Justin?”

“Justin Finch-Fletchley? Muggleborn Hufflepuff? Him and Theo have been together for ages. We actually thought they were going to be the first ones hitched in the group but Greg and Daphne seem to have beaten them to the punch line.”

“You do realise that you just classified him as a snake,” Ron laughed. “Does he know that?”

“Wait until you actually hang around him. He is as ruthless and as cutthroat as it comes. Actually makes Theo look like a kitten from time to time. The year that should have been our seventh year at Hogwarts, I had to put him into hiding to protect him and it really changed him.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Had to for Theo's sake. It was the least I could do for him,” Pansy responded with a shrug of her shoulders. “They had been in love with each other for two years by then and if I hadn't done it, I think they both would have come out a lot worse for wear by the time the war was over. It was bad enough  as it was.”

“You feel responsible for them all don't you?”

“The circle? Of course,” she whispered with a nod. “They often have to put their lives on hold or give them up to protect me. I repay their sacrifices every chance I get, just as my mum did before me and everyone before that.”

“So Draco gets a motorbike?”

“Draco gets everything materialistically that he wants. All he has to do is ask and he knows it.”

“And you hid Theo's boyfriend away?”

“Yes.”

“Harry?”

Turning her head away, so Ron couldn't see her eyes when she admitted to this, “Convinced Kingsley to overlook the NEWTS requirement of admittance to Aurors.”

“But he extended that to me too.”

“I know,” she said before dropping her voice to a whisper and continuing, “I asked him to extend the offer to you also.”

“Why?”

“You saved Draco's life.”

“Who else is in the circle?”

“Right now?”

“Yes.”

“My father. Your father. Kingsley. Andromeda Tonks. Ernie MacMillan. John Dawlish. Hannah Abbott. Penelope Clearwater. Susan Bones. Professor McGonagall. Neville Longbottom.”

“What about Harry?”

“Harry makes twelve. Draco doesn't count as my bodyguard and neither does Bear because his responsibility is to the family heritage and not me. Oh and my mother is a long story, so is Mags. They count but they don't. It's really complicated when it comes to those four.”

“What about Theo?”

“Theo won't officially join the circle until his father passes.”

“Why is that?”

“Seven members of the circle are there due to family obligations. Five of those are always the oldest son, two of those are always the oldest daughter. The other five are chosen by the original seven. Theo won't be required to serve until his father passes.”

“He has to serve?”

“Yes,” she sighed, pouring herself another drink. “He doesn't have a choice.”

“Who else doesn't have a choice?”

“You aren't going to like the answer,” she whispered taking a sip of her drink.

“You are still going to tell me.”

“My father. Your father. Harry. Teddy, Andromeda serves for him right now. Neville. Susan. Hannah.”

“So you mean...”

She interrupted him, “That Bill will serve upon your father's death and Teddy will serve once he comes of age.”

“So your father...”

“Is actually Theo's.”

The kitchen fell silent. Both just sat there sipping on their drinks pondering the words and actions of the other. Pansy hadn't expected that this evening she would be explaining the make up of the circle to Ron and by the look on his face, she was sure he hadn't expected all her answers. Especially the part where his family fit in. She briefly wondered why he hadn't asked just why those seven families were required to served. And why the circle did serve her family.

“Have you ever done anything for my father; for my family?”

Pansy closed her eyes as she heard the words she never wanted to hear. Pansy hated that he always seemed to read her mind these days.

“Yes. I continued what my mum started.”

“What?”

“You have to promise me that you will not say anything to your parents about you knowing this?”

“Why?”

“Give me your word you won't say anything, that this piece of information – you won't mention to another soul,” she said firmly as he stared at her.

“You have my word. What did you do?”

She could barely hear the words herself as she said, “As my mum before me, I paid for Hogwarts.”

His eyes grew wide as the words sunk in. He blinked a few times before swallowing the rest of the drink. Looking at her one more time, he stood up and walked out of the kitchen. Pansy could hear his footfalls as he trudged up the stairs but she didn't follow him.

Somewhere she knew she shouldn't have told him what exactly she had done for his family. She could remember when they were in school how of all the Weasleys he seemed the most embarrassed by their lack of money. Pansy could also remember not understanding why that mattered to him at all – the few times she would actually let herself think about it. The times she allowed herself to wallow in self-pity about the poor, little, orphaned, rich girl she really was. The moments she wanted to grab him and shake him and remind him of all he had that she could never have; no matter how much money she had in Gringotts or Switzerland or the Caribbean. But she never did. Because it would have given her away.

But it also meant that just because she never did, didn't mean she never would.

Finishing her drink, she went upstairs to their bedroom. Standing in the door way, she saw him staring at the fire from his stretched out position on the couch; fiddling with her ivory Queen.

“Can I ask what's it like actually growing up with your parents?” she asked.

He didn't answer her. Nor did he look at her.

“I mean I know I have Philip and Persephone and I do consider them my parents for all intents and purposes but what is it like to grow up with the mum and dad who created you?”

Still Ron said nothing but kept looking at the Queen in his hand.

“Do you know I can barely remember what my mum looked like? The only times I seem to be able to is when I either visit her sarcophagus that has a stone carving of her, visit my father's study which has a large portrait of her over the fireplace, or have a nightmare about the night she died.”

To her aggravation, he didn't respond.

She decided to try another tactic to get him to respond to her and started to tap her foot, as she spoke, “Your Hogwarts education isn't the only one I've paid for.”

He glared at her. “I know, you paid for my siblings also.”

“Actually right now, according to the goblin who is responsible for that particular fund, I'm footing the bill for 27 children to attend Hogwarts currently. Since my first year, I have paid for every student who wants to attend and couldn't afford to otherwise. As well as having set aside the money to send Teddy for everything his father did for me. You aren't the only ones I've helped go to Hogwarts. Your family merely gave me the idea.”

“Are you looking for sainthood?” he snapped, slamming the piece back on the table and standing back up. His anger flowing from him. “Or for me to bow down at your feet like evidently my father does?”

“I know that more than one goblin and more than one accountant has complained about the significant amounts of money I spend in gifts and charities every year but everyone seems to forget at the end of the day when they go home to their parents, children, brothers, sisters, whatever – I get to go home to what?

“A stone sarcophagus? A fucking painting? Memories of being tossed aside, forgotten for years by a group of people who were supposed to take care of me. The same group of people who make me hide the true colour of my eyes because they remind them of her? I'm a living, breathing reminder every day that the circle failed seventeen years ago.

“I'm not going to apologize for spending the money to make sure you and your brothers and your sister got the education your parents wanted for you without making your lives any harder than what it was. Your father could have had so much if he hadn't had to protect me too!”  
  
“So now you are poor, little, rich girl?” he snapped.

Leaning against the door, she stopped tapping her foot and  reminded him, “You asked me a question and I told you the truth, what do you want from me? I can't give you any more than that Ron.”

Evidently, he wasn't expecting that. He kept wildly gesturing with his arms while his mouth kept opening and closing with no sound actually coming out. She let him try multiple times before finally giving up and sitting back down on the sofa, resting his head in his hands.

She didn't say anything as she moved to take a seat next to him. She started rubbing his back and waited out his silence as he rubbed his face.

She didn't have to wait long before she heard him mutter something but she didn't catch it.

“Ron, I'm sorry but I couldn't make out a single word you said,” she said gently as she continued to rub his back.

“Why me?”

“Ron, how many times am I going to have to convince you why I'm here every time the topic of my wealth comes up. I'm still here because you seem to only see me and none of the other trappings. You don't see the Princess or the poor little rich girl. You just see me; and that's more than anyone else has ever done,” Pansy sighed in frustration. Looking up at her ceiling she found the courage to ask what had been going through her mind since she confessed to him about the blasted curses,“You know I keep wondering a similar thing. Why are you still here? With me?”

“What?”

“You are with a girl who is under the Heartsease curse. Why?” she asked, turning her head to look at him as she felt herself unable to hide her own melancholy. “Why are you with someone who can never love you.”

“Why?” she asked again, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand when he didn't reply immediately. “Why doesn't it matter to you?”

She felt his arm wrap around her and pull her closer to his body, before he kissed her on the top of her head.

“I don't know. It just doesn't feel like that matters in the end.”

“How can you say that?”

“Easy,” he sighed, pulling her into his lap. “I just spent three years with a girl who said it so much and backed it up with so little action that she managed to cheapen the verbal gesture in my mind.”

“You are really okay with me never being able to say it or really truly feel it, no matter how long we are together? That I will never be able to reciprocate any feelings other than the affection we share now,” she whispered, her voice trembling with fear. “That we will never be more than what we are now?”

Ron held her as they feel into silence while she let him think about what she just asked him. Pansy just let him have his silence and tried to enjoy the comfort she found in his arms; in her desperate hopes that this wouldn't be the last time that he would hold her like this.

“I can't promise this won't change,” he said softly and gently. “But right here and right now, it doesn't matter to me.”

“And when it changes, will you please just tell me?” she whispered. “That's all I ask.”

“How about if it changes, I promise to tell you?”

Pansy sat up quickly in his lap to look at him. “You are acting as if it is only a possibility.”

“And you are acting like it's inevitable.”

“Well it is, isn't it?” she prodded as she searched his face. “You will eventually want a wife and children...”

“Are you always this pessimistic?” he asked interrupting her with a soft smile that seemed knowing.

“About this? Yes,” she responded. “I mean how else am I suppose to...”

“Lizzie,” he interrupted. “Don't think about it. I have this feeling, I'm going to be around as long as you let me stay.”

“Really?” she asked resting her forehead on his. “Even if...”

“Really.”

“In spite of everything? That I can never marry you or...”

“Yes Lizzie,” he sighed. “In spite of everything.”

“Promise?”

“Merlin, Lizzie. Let it go.”

“Sorry,” she said quickly, realizing that he was right. Settling back down into his lap and leaning against his body, she forced her mind to empty and to just focus on Ron and the peace that came with simply being with him.

“You do realize that this whole situation is frustrating without you doubting me.”

“I know and I'm sorry if it seems like I'm doubting you. I'm not, I'm just scared to lose you now,” she told him as she watched her fingers draw idle patterns along his clothed chest.

“It's just that moments like earlier just makes me doubt why you are with me because I'm reminded that I'm either just the sidekick or that poor blood traitor...”

“I wish you wouldn't use that word,” she sighed, interrupting him. “It really hurts me to hear you say that because you aren't a blood traitor.”

“Why do you keep saying that? It's not like that isn't what my family is given our affection for Muggles and Muggleborns.”

“Because that's not what a blood traitor is. Or wasn't until after the first war with Voldemort.”

“What do you mean?”

“There is only one family that can truly be called blood traitors and its the Malfoys.”

“Why?”

“Because they were traitors to my blood line,” she replied. Taking his hand into hers, she started to rub on it as she continued, “The first Malfoy served under mine who was ruling over Briton at that time. That Malfoy challenged my ancestor's rule while he was at war defending the country; usurping not only his throne but also his wife. When mine found out, he came back to regain his throne and war broke out. In the end both my ancestor and the Malfoy ancestor were mortally wounded; with his dying breath the Malfoy ancestor cursed mine; that my family should never rule Briton again.  

“At the end of the battle there were only seven surviving knights. All who fought for my ancestor and who all swore on their lives and their families to protect what was left of my family. Thus the circle came into being. Over years, my family has progressively gone further and further into hiding as people see it as a way to usurp the throne from the Muggle royal family as well as having a descendent of a significant wizard at their beckon call. With my mum's accidental death – I was completely hidden away for my own protection and the circle forgotten; so the term blood traitor evolved due to Lucius trying to remove the stigma from his family.

“Weasleys are not now, nor have they ever been, blood traitors. After all your father has done for me over the years, that is why it really hurts me to hear you call yourself a blood traitor. Because you aren't. None of your family is.”

“What about Draco?”

“What about him?” she asked turning her head to look at him. “I keep telling you all that he isn't his father. I refuse to allow him to call himself that either. Same for Mags as she is a Malfoy too.”

“What about Lucius?”

“Azkaban is still too good for his rotting soul.”

“That sounds familiar,” he replied, pulling her closer to him. “So if none of you like Lucius, how did the arrange marriage come to pass between you and Draco?”

“To this day, very few people know that Lucius got what he came after the night my mother died. As far as he knows, his son became betrothed to Pansy Parkinson, daughter of Philip Parkinson when she was ten years of age after running into her and her father in Paris. I always thought that he wanted to make Philip pay for him not getting his first choice years ago.”

“Hidden in plain sight.”

“Pretty much,” she said with a sad smile on her face. “Lucius didn't recognize me when he stumbled upon us at Notre Dame. I had my hazel eyes by then and my hair had darkened to the freaky black colour it is today. My father did his best to avoid Lucius' request for as long as possible but in the end, it was decided that it less suspicious to go through with it then to keep avoiding it. They were hoping that when I came of age, they would fake my death again and just squirrel me away again. Farther than just Paris next time.”

“Fake your death again?”

“When it first happened, no one could figure out why I survived and my mum didn't after being hit with the same spell, so when they buried my mum, they 'buried' me also. And let the world know that my family had ceased to be.

“Actually I hate visiting my mum's sarcophagus because my own lies right beside hers.”


End file.
